Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Best Wishes January
January has to come to an end. I can't tell you how happy I will be to move on into February.
What do I have against the first month of the year?
Nothing, really. Nothing at all against January. Rather it's a certain annoyingly French tradition that happens in January.
In every culture graced with a calendar, a cultural tradition of wishing others the best as the new year begins. In the U.S. for instance, when the clock strikes midnight, the ball drops, and the kisses begin, we exchange "Happy New Year"'s with anybody in our near vicinity.
And then we let it be.
Maybe...just maybe, we carry over into the next day. If you wake up early enough to leave the house and see someone, that is.
In France they have another way of doing things. During the entire month of January, if you see someone for the first time in the new year, it is polite to exchange best wishes. Phone calls and e-mails also fall under the purview of this cultural practice.
When I arrived back at work on January 2, my inbox was flooded with best wishes from everyone from my co-worker 10 feet away to the accountant to the president of the company. Each time I contacted a client for the first time in the year, their replies would come back prefaced with a message like "I present to you my best wishes for the new year. All happiness and joy and good health and romance to you in 2012."
One time, a man I had never spoken to in my life began his inquiry with the longest "best wishes" I have ever encountered: Best wishes to you and your family with great health and happiness and success and the reaching of your dreams and soul-filling love and great orgasms and financial riches beyond your wildest imagination and no cancer--cancer is awful--and advancement in your company and true contentment in life. (I exaggerate but not by much.)
After the staccato beat of his best wishes halted, there was a long pause. He expected me to rip off a litany of best wishes too apparently. It would have been polite after all. A bit flummoxed I merely replied, "And to you as well." And then I waited for him to bring up his real concern.
Later the secretary helped me prepare a nice reply I could offer in reply: "And in turn I present to you my best wishes." Short and simple, but well worn-out.
At the end of this month, there is a small flurry of best wishes from the procrastinators in the bunch. There's time to extend best wishes--it's still the first month of the year.
To that I say: best wishes and good riddance, January. May you never come again until 2013, and then may you be short, warmer than this year with less rain, and filled with short, genuine greetings.
But mostly good riddance.
What do I have against the first month of the year?
Nothing, really. Nothing at all against January. Rather it's a certain annoyingly French tradition that happens in January.
In every culture graced with a calendar, a cultural tradition of wishing others the best as the new year begins. In the U.S. for instance, when the clock strikes midnight, the ball drops, and the kisses begin, we exchange "Happy New Year"'s with anybody in our near vicinity.
And then we let it be.
Maybe...just maybe, we carry over into the next day. If you wake up early enough to leave the house and see someone, that is.
In France they have another way of doing things. During the entire month of January, if you see someone for the first time in the new year, it is polite to exchange best wishes. Phone calls and e-mails also fall under the purview of this cultural practice.
When I arrived back at work on January 2, my inbox was flooded with best wishes from everyone from my co-worker 10 feet away to the accountant to the president of the company. Each time I contacted a client for the first time in the year, their replies would come back prefaced with a message like "I present to you my best wishes for the new year. All happiness and joy and good health and romance to you in 2012."
One time, a man I had never spoken to in my life began his inquiry with the longest "best wishes" I have ever encountered: Best wishes to you and your family with great health and happiness and success and the reaching of your dreams and soul-filling love and great orgasms and financial riches beyond your wildest imagination and no cancer--cancer is awful--and advancement in your company and true contentment in life. (I exaggerate but not by much.)
After the staccato beat of his best wishes halted, there was a long pause. He expected me to rip off a litany of best wishes too apparently. It would have been polite after all. A bit flummoxed I merely replied, "And to you as well." And then I waited for him to bring up his real concern.
Later the secretary helped me prepare a nice reply I could offer in reply: "And in turn I present to you my best wishes." Short and simple, but well worn-out.
At the end of this month, there is a small flurry of best wishes from the procrastinators in the bunch. There's time to extend best wishes--it's still the first month of the year.
To that I say: best wishes and good riddance, January. May you never come again until 2013, and then may you be short, warmer than this year with less rain, and filled with short, genuine greetings.
But mostly good riddance.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Goods Do Not Meet Requirement...
I received a book from Amazon.com this weekend. Some things you just can't get in French bookstores or even on Amazon.fr. So I sucked it up and paid the $7.98 shipping for a book only slightly more than that.
On the box was a yellow sticker that read
Goods Do Not Meet The Requirement Of Article 9 and 10 Of The Contract For The Foundation Of The European Community
Kind of ominous, right? Was I breaking Article 9 and 10 by importing a book unavailable in France? Or did the book not fall under Article 9 and 10 and thus manage to break through the customs barrier? Would secret customs agents burst into my apartment as soon as I opened the book?
To calm my doubts and fears I did what I had to do. I googled. First on the list: The Treaty of Rome, which got the ball rolling with the European Economic Community way back in 1957. Articles 9 and 10 were not too hard to find.
Article 9 1. The Community shall be based upon a customs union covering the exchange of all goods and comprising both the prohibition, as between Member States, of customs duties on importation and exportation and all charges with equivalent effect and the adoption of a common customs tariff in their relations with third countries.
2. The provisions of Chapter 1, Section 1 and of Chapter 2 of this Title shall apply to products originating in Member States and also to products coming from third countries and having been entered for consumption in Member States.
Article 10 1. Products having been entered for consumption in a Member State shall be deemed to be products coming from a third country in cases where, in respect of such products, the necessary import formalities have been complied with and the appropriate customs duties or charges with equivalent effect have been levied in such Member State and where such products have not benefited by any total or partial drawback on such duties or charges.
2. The Commission shall, before the end of the first year after the date of the entry into force of this Treaty, lay down the methods of administrative co-operation to be adopted for the application of Article 9, paragraph 2, taking due account of the need for reducing as far as possible the formalities imposed on trade.
Before the end of the first year after the date of the entry into force of this Treaty, the Commission shall lay down the provisions applicable, as regards trade between Member States, to goods originating in another Member State in whose manufacture products have been used on which the appropriate customs duties or charges with equivalent effect in the exporting Member State have not been levied or which have benefited by a total or partial drawback on such duties or charges.
When laying down such provisions, the Commission shall take due account of the rules for the elimination of customs duties within the Community and for the progressive application of the common customs tariff.
If you skimmed that like I did the first time, you didn't miss much.
I'm no lawyer, but the best I can make out is that one book doesn't get charged tariffs on import through the mail.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
An Unusually High Grocery Bill
I looked at my receipt: €86.20.
A bit high for a grocery run. But I did stock back up on soap, toothpaste, olive oil, tea, and cheese, after having let my stocks slide to nothingness these past few weeks. And I also had recharged my phone for the next few weeks. Still, €86.20 was a bit high.
The groceries for the next person in line started sliding down towards my sacks. I had to go.
After the one kilometer walk back home, I looked at the receipt again. The cashier has scanned multiple items twice! It was wrong!
I stormed back to Monoprix, preparing an angry diatribe for the cashier and the manager as I went. "In civilized countries...this is unacceptable...it's bad enough I have to..." Having a decent familiarity with French service, I feared for the rest of my evening. Would I get my money back? Would I get my evening back?
I walked straight up to the cashier (well actually I missed her the first time, so I had to double back, but that's beside the point) and I thrust the receipt in her direction, saying "Bonsoir" in a remarkably amiable fashion.
"Oh," she said, "just go to the welcome desk and they'll take care of you."
So I walked up to the welcome desk with the same determination and strength of purpose. I prepared my lines again. But no, the attendant was on the phone. Ah ha! Taking long personal calls on company time! Not the first time I had seen that in France.
Oh no, it was a customer. Never mind.
I showed her the receipt and explained the problem. I was about to begin on the philosophical principle that it is unjust to pay for items you do not receive nor want. I was going to explain that even if the French aren't big fans of capitalism, it's only fair, since they've accepted the system in practice. I was going to...
"May I have your debit card sir?'
I pulled it out.
She scanned it.
A new receipt with the correct amount came out.
"There you go."
"Ok...thanks. Good evening."
A bit high for a grocery run. But I did stock back up on soap, toothpaste, olive oil, tea, and cheese, after having let my stocks slide to nothingness these past few weeks. And I also had recharged my phone for the next few weeks. Still, €86.20 was a bit high.
The groceries for the next person in line started sliding down towards my sacks. I had to go.
After the one kilometer walk back home, I looked at the receipt again. The cashier has scanned multiple items twice! It was wrong!
I stormed back to Monoprix, preparing an angry diatribe for the cashier and the manager as I went. "In civilized countries...this is unacceptable...it's bad enough I have to..." Having a decent familiarity with French service, I feared for the rest of my evening. Would I get my money back? Would I get my evening back?
I walked straight up to the cashier (well actually I missed her the first time, so I had to double back, but that's beside the point) and I thrust the receipt in her direction, saying "Bonsoir" in a remarkably amiable fashion.
"Oh," she said, "just go to the welcome desk and they'll take care of you."
So I walked up to the welcome desk with the same determination and strength of purpose. I prepared my lines again. But no, the attendant was on the phone. Ah ha! Taking long personal calls on company time! Not the first time I had seen that in France.
Oh no, it was a customer. Never mind.
I showed her the receipt and explained the problem. I was about to begin on the philosophical principle that it is unjust to pay for items you do not receive nor want. I was going to explain that even if the French aren't big fans of capitalism, it's only fair, since they've accepted the system in practice. I was going to...
"May I have your debit card sir?'
I pulled it out.
She scanned it.
A new receipt with the correct amount came out.
"There you go."
"Ok...thanks. Good evening."
Friday, January 27, 2012
The Possibility of European Identity
The Italian medievalist, critic, and author Umberto Eco recently shared his thoughts about European identity with The Guardian:
His words ring true. This is the sort of milieu I frequent. At the parties I attend, I can easily find young citizens of at least four or five different countries. Their horizon is not limited to their own language or their own culture. They would feel constrained if limited to only the cultural objects and people of their own country.
When I studied in Limoges, it was much the same thing. The Erasmus dynamic is unlike almost anything else, a sentiment best captured in the 2002 film L'auberge espagnole. It's an identity practicing Christians and Muslims didn't feel entirely comfortable in for reasons having to do with sex and alcohol. But there was a unity and a shared identity that could be observed there.
The Spanish and Italians shared a special connection. After a few months together, they could easily speak the other language. And the French and the Germans had a love-hate sort of relationship. The Germans were more knowledgeable about French culture and language than the French were about the Germans, but they were also constantly reminded of things they liked better on the other side of the Rhine. In the end, whatever dissensions or discomforts existed, they paled in comparison to the wars that raged between their two countries for the hundreds of years leading up to a generation or two ago.
While I find Eco accurate in his analysis of the problem of European identity, I have to wonder how feasible his solution really is. There is less money to go around these days and less enthusiasm for the European project. The French have turned inwards, as can be seen by the popularity of the anti-Europe Marine Le Pen. A true European identity isn't a pipe dream, but it also doesn't seem quickly forthcoming.
"The university exchange programme Erasmus is barely mentioned in the business sections of newspapers, yet Erasmus has created the first generation of young Europeans. I call it a sexual revolution: a young Catalan man meets a Flemish girl – they fall in love, they get married and they become European, as do their children. The Erasmus idea should be compulsory – not just for students, but also for taxi drivers, plumbers and other workers. By this, I mean they need to spend time in other countries within the European Union; they should integrate."
His words ring true. This is the sort of milieu I frequent. At the parties I attend, I can easily find young citizens of at least four or five different countries. Their horizon is not limited to their own language or their own culture. They would feel constrained if limited to only the cultural objects and people of their own country.
When I studied in Limoges, it was much the same thing. The Erasmus dynamic is unlike almost anything else, a sentiment best captured in the 2002 film L'auberge espagnole. It's an identity practicing Christians and Muslims didn't feel entirely comfortable in for reasons having to do with sex and alcohol. But there was a unity and a shared identity that could be observed there.
The Spanish and Italians shared a special connection. After a few months together, they could easily speak the other language. And the French and the Germans had a love-hate sort of relationship. The Germans were more knowledgeable about French culture and language than the French were about the Germans, but they were also constantly reminded of things they liked better on the other side of the Rhine. In the end, whatever dissensions or discomforts existed, they paled in comparison to the wars that raged between their two countries for the hundreds of years leading up to a generation or two ago.
While I find Eco accurate in his analysis of the problem of European identity, I have to wonder how feasible his solution really is. There is less money to go around these days and less enthusiasm for the European project. The French have turned inwards, as can be seen by the popularity of the anti-Europe Marine Le Pen. A true European identity isn't a pipe dream, but it also doesn't seem quickly forthcoming.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
What Did You Do With Megaupload?
It's enough to remind one of the Bush years.
It's now been a week since the FBI closed down Megaupload, thus depriving millions of people around the world of the ability to stream American TV series for free. The closure haunts me, an American abroad. I have been accosted at parties and questioned in cafés.
It's now been a week since the FBI closed down Megaupload, thus depriving millions of people around the world of the ability to stream American TV series for free. The closure haunts me, an American abroad. I have been accosted at parties and questioned in cafés.
Why did you close Megaupload?
Make the FBI bring it back please.
Where else can I stream for free?
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