In Honor of St. Genevieve

Yesterday I was sitting in a pub just across the street from the church St. Etienne de Mont in the 5th arrondissement, when I noticed a group of men carrying a large pot into the small plaza in front of the church. Several police officers followed. A police car pulled up the steep and narrow road next to the church with its lights flashing.

Obviously something was happening.

We puzzled over it. Could it be a Sunday feed-the-poor event? Probably not, this was the pricy student district, after all. A protest? Then why the large pot?

Then they marched in.

Some were carrying candles. Others Parisian flags. A group near the front had a large banner which read "Patrimony of Paris. Hommage to St. Genevieve". Suddenly it made a little more sense. St. Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris, is buried in St. Etienne de Mont Church. The Pantheon, which now functions as a secular mausoleum, was originally intended to house her remains and her relics.

A man on a loud speaker led the crowd in some chants and then they set off some small fireworks. Smoke filled the plaza. After a quarter of an hour, the crowd formed a line to get whatever was in the big pot. About the same time I left the pub to go home. I discovered the solution to at least one mystery: the pot contained mulled wine, to warm and cheer the fans of St. Genevieve.

Afterwards, I found this website Paris Fierté (Paris Pride), which advertises and explains the march:

Like every year, on January 8, 2012, Parisians will descend into the streets, more numerous that last year, in order to pay homage to their patron saint and proclaim their pride in their history and their identity.
Because this march for St. Genevieve is much more than just a simple symbolic commemoration. It is also an intense moment of communion and hope for the future.

[C]omme chaque année, le 8 janvier 2012, les Parisiens vont descendre dans la rue, plus nombreux qu’à l’édition précédente, pour rendre hommage à leur sainte patronne et proclamer la fierté de leur histoire et de leur identité.
Car cette marche pour Sainte Geneviève est bien autre chose qu’une simple commémoration symbolique, c’est également un intense moment de communion et d’espoir pour l’avenir.

Some mysteries remain. For an American evangelical, it's doubly and triply hard to understand these sort of events. For starters, unless you're from a city with a big Irish, Italian, or Latin American population, most Americans have never seen marches to honor saints. I know growing up in various cities in the West, I never saw one.

Secondly, it's hard to know what sort of people are involved in the march. The language on the website resembles the coded language of the far right--honor and pride in the past with reminders of a white Christian past which is less and less present. It's always hard to know how to separate pride in the past with a desire to return there.

Thirdly, it's hard to know what they're hoping for. French laïcité is so firmly grounded in culture and politics now, it's hard to imagine going back to the pre-Revolution past before they burned up St. Genevieve's relics, let alone rolling back the waves of immigration and cultural change of the past half-century. It's just not clear to me what these sort of groups want. A more Catholic France? A whiter France? A miracle to get out of the Euro crisis? Better history teaching?

Scenes From the 13th: Tolbiac Metro

2011: A Year in Review

I started this blog in August once I knew my little Parisian experiment was going to last more than half a year. Since then I've tried to convey an idea of the cultural, linguistic, business, and political differences between my native American culture and this strange, fascinating, historic land which has now become my home.

Starting a new job and losing my SLR camera have hampered the blogging schedule I would have liked to keep, but I hope that you have enjoyed reading all the same.

In case you missed them, here are the top 5 posts from 2011 according to pageviews:

1. It's Not Terrible: A funny take on a funny French phrase.

2. The Strange Case of My Visa: The fact that I got a work visa at this political and economic juncture approaches miraculous.

3. Commemorating 9/11 at Notre Dame de Paris: On the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, I attended a memorial mass at Notre Dame.

4. A Tale of Two Cities: I went to London in November; it was impossible not to compare the two cities.

5. A Doctor's Visit: Visiting the doctor in France was not at all like I expected it to be.

One of my personal favorites was the post A Rather Unromantic View, mainly because it pushes against the New York Times view of Paris, which is shared by so many Americans. The Paris of postcards is only a part of the package. I hope I have managed to capture more of that whole that doesn't make it into guidebooks.


The Parisian Sketches has some changes in store for 2012. So please stay tuned.

Sarkozy and Obama

Nicolas Sarkozy, the President of France, doesn’t like wine. He doesn’t like smelly cheeses. He doesn’t like truffles. He likes Diet Coke and candy and big Havana cigars. Such distaste for good taste is widely regarded as unnatural in France, but Sarkozy makes no apologies. He takes pride in his candor, and if it often comes across as uncouth and uncool his attitude is: So what?

Last week there was an excellent profile of French President Nicolas Sarkozy in The New Yorker.

The parallels between Sarkozy and Obama have intrigued me since before both were elected president of their respective countries. I was here in 2007 to witness Sarkozy's election and to field questions from curious French blacks about Obama as he was starting his 2008 campaign. Both were political outsiders, excluded from their countries' elite, and yet both managed to seduce the electorate with promises of change. Now both are up for re-election in 2012. The odds look a little better for Obama than for Sarkozy, but both face an uphill battle. And in both cases, their re-election will depend on how effectively the opposition shoots itself in the foot.

The Strange Case Of My Visa

When I tell the story of how I arrived in France and finally got a visa, the typical response is That's great. I'm glad it all worked out for you. That's great as sentiments go. I appreciate the support and well wishes. But if my friends and family truly realize just how extraordinary it was that I got a visa given the current French political situation, I think I would get a few more Woooow!!!'s.

In the first place, if you didn't get a degree in France or you aren't married or related to someone in France, it's virtually impossible to get hired. Like all developed countries, there are a lot of restrictions. You generally have to be a specialist in some field and prove that you will not take a job away from a French person.

Recently it's become even more difficult. To say that the economic situation is not superb would be the understatement of the year (cf. 'Merkozy' and 'monthly summits to save Euro-zone'). There's an election coming up in five months. And no politician wants to be accused of giving French jobs to foreigners. One concrete manifestation of this trend was a circular issued this summer the Minister of the Interior Claude Guéant making it more difficult for foreign students to stay in France after their degrees and limiting the areas where foreign specialists could be admitted to the country.

A few weeks ago, I met an Algerian in a bar who was having a going-away party after seven years in France. Seven years of studies and internships--more than a fourth of his life--and yet the economic situation combined with the new restrictions made it impossible for him to extend his visa. And he's just one of many. Ask anyone who works with foreigners or has foreign friends, and he or she will tell you about at least one person in a similar situation.

Now, even talented foreigners with gainful employment are being expelled from the country. Greg Beuthin, an American computer science specialist employed with the firm Commerce Guys has been denied an extension of his visa (French). He's completely bilingual. He didn't want to leave. His company thought he did the job better than any French person would. And his job was helpful in creating other jobs in France. Not important. Visa denied.

This is the backdrop for my visa application's success. It was never, ever guaranteed or even probable. And yet it happened.

Army vs. Navy makes French news

Read in today's Direct Matin:

Yesterday in the state of Maryland, students of the American military academy West Point attended a football game in which their team was defeated by the naval academy's team 27-21. Nicknamed 'Army vs. Navy', the university match has taken place every year since 1890.

Les élèves de l'académie militaire américaine de West Point ont assisté, avant-hier dans le Maryland, à la défaite de leur équipe de football face à celle de l'academie navale (27-21). Baptisé "Army vs. Navy", ce match universitaire se tient chaque année depuis 1890.

Yes, the football game between the army military academy and the naval military academy in our country is nicknamed, wait for it...wait for it: 'Army vs. Navy'.





(The word 'nicknamed' literally means 'baptized', but is used in much broader sense than English-speakers use 'baptize'. You could maybe just say 'named'. But I translated it 'nickname' here because that's how I understood it when I read it this morning. It would make more sense if they said the OU vs. Texas was nicknamed the 'Red River Rivalry'.)

AutoLib Debuts

There they were. What once was mesh-fenced-off roadwork was suddenly road side parking for a line of small gray electric cars. Uniformed attendants stood behind the cars. No users were in sight. I was late for work, but I hopped in the bus anyway.

While walking into the metro on the second leg of my commute, I picked up the free paper to see front page coverage of the debut of the Autolib in Paris. Politicians and business leaders have gotten together to provide yet another transportation alternative to Parisians. It works almost exactly like the Vélib bike system, to which I am subscribed. You pick up a car in one place in Paris and then drive it to another station in Paris and drop it off. No maintenance. No gas. No trouble finding parking places. Well, in theory...sometimes Vélib stations are full and you have to keep searching. I can imagine the same thing for Autolib.

When I arrived at my last stop, a man stopped me randomly and asked me, "Where is the Autolib station?" I looked around. I know the area very well. I was positive I had seen a station nearby. I thought and thought. Nothing came to me. I looked around again, trying to see if landmarks would jog my memory. Where had I seen them putting up the station? Where? No luck. I was late for work. I apologized and wished him good luck finding it.

I intend to try Autolib out. Just not this week. I have to figure a few things out before I try to drive to work.