A Robust Bouquet of Snobbery

When we are smelling the Marco Polo sample from the fabulous, famous Mariage Frères tea store in the Marais, Gigi says -- and this is word for word -- "Buy this one, Mommy! It's got hints of chocolate and raspberry!" And darn it if she isn't right.

I know, I know: You don't think of France when you think of tea. But then perhaps you haven't tried Mariage or Dammann Frères. Both sets of brothers trace their claim to be the best tea in France to the 17th century. Mariage Frères claim to have been sent to seek out great teas from the Orient around 1660, by King Louis XIV (though they place their business founding date in 1854). Dammann Frères claim their ancestor Monsieur Damame was granted an exclusive right to sell tea in 1692 by, also, King Louis XIV. Evidently, during his 72 year reign, the Sun King had quite a thing for tea.

The Marco Polo box (13€ for 100g) describes it as a "marvellous fruity & flowery black tea," so Gigi didn't get "hints of chocolate and raspberry" from there. I'm afraid that, like most things that come out of kids' mouths, it originates with the parents. Oh no! Are we those Bay Area people that the rest of the US mocks? The kind who swirl our wine and talk about its legs and bouquet? I don't think we are, yet Gigi got it from somewhere.

But at least we're not such snobs that we have a preference for one of the high-end teas over the other, thereby proving (to ourselves at least) that we are not complete and total wankers. I must admit, however, to having a preference for one of the stores itself -- the Dammann Frères store on the Place des Vosges -- simply because they've made all the samples easier to sniff. The store has an old-fashioned apothocery feel (much like Mariage Frères, frankly) but with a huge table of wooden boxes filled with the various teas. This would be another great use of smellovision, if it existed, because the aroma of some of these teas is too, too delicious for words.

Once we buy these teas, I am torn between wanting to use them slowly and make them last (especially at that price point) versus wanting to drink them up quickly so that I will have an excuse and room in the pantry to go buy more flavors.

Applying Myself

I've been thinking a lot about school applications recently, probably because I've been doing a lot of school applications recently: Gigi will go to middle school next year. [Ed note: I recognize that this a bit confusing to readers who know her, as she has switched grades here in France, but we expect she'll switch back to her correct grade when we go back to the US. French age cutoffs are different -- through Dec 31 with some born in Jan and Feb, so she's not very young when moved up a grade here but would be back in the U.S.]

Unfortunately, the public, application-free, tuition-free, local middle school is not quite what we want. Partly this is because of the English language. Right now she does about 45 minutes a week in a classroom of mostly French kids, so it's not challenging. But at least it's only 45 minutes per week. Starting in middle school, however, French children are required to take English an hour a day (five days per week since, as you remember, middle schoolers do go to school Wednesday mornings). Recognizing that this would be too much boredom, there's an excellent local private school that has a special program for bilingual children, where they do 10 hours of English per week, all together, in a class with native anglophone teachers who follow a curriculum appropriate for native English speaking countries.

Another reason we want this particular school is that, like the elementary school both girls currently attend, it's just across a bridge and in easy walking distance, whereas most of the city's other bilingual and/or competitive private schools are on the western side of the city. Until Gigi's old enough to ride the metro alone or I can clone myself, walking distance makes it a whole lot easier to get them both to different schools.

I am relieved both that Gigi has been accepted to this hard-to-get-into program and also that the deadlines and responses for this school were earlier than the application deadlines for the other schools we would have considered. It's like getting our first choice in an early action decision. No more applications needed!

At the middle school level, people sending their children to the public school don't need to do any special application process. But what's different here is that for the public high schools -- especially the best ones like Henri IV, Louis le Grand, or Charlemagne -- students need to compete for spots (and, frankly, keep competing in order to stay there). These particular schools are considered every bit as good as the best private schools. They're the elite of the elite, but my friends with older kids are now completing their dossiers, essays, and trying to raise grades for final report cards and exams so that they can earn a spot at a better public high school.

I've also been conducting admissions interviews for Princeton while I'm here. These are the kind of interviews done for applicants who can't make it to campus, and the point is not for me to wield godlike power over their admission status (I wish!) but for me to help round out their application so the university can make a more informed decision. But what's interesting is that applications for French universities and high schools are easier, in the sense that they don't involve interviews and essays, but also more difficult in that they don't consider any factors except the school transcripts and exam scores: not personality, ambition, or extracurriculars. This is one reason French teenagers don't tend to do many things outside of school and homework. There's steep competition to earn top scores in order to get into into the best high school and stay there and graduate at the top so that they can go to the best universities. For most of these grandes écoles ("great schools"), students are first required to complete a post-high-school two-year "prepatory" class. What it prepares them for is additional ridiculously difficult entrance exams that help decide their entrance chances. At university, they are tracked into highly focused studies from the beginning. The concept of "liberal arts" education is, literally, very foreign to the French, and is the main reason the students I interview give me for wanting to study in the States.

For Gigi's middle school application, there were, in fact, essays required and an interview (though in a more typically French fashion, the interview was secondary and only happened after she successfully passed an entrance exam and had been selected for admission). But of course she is young enough that the essays were assigned to me -- not her. Between preschools and private schools in San Francisco, private schools in Paris, and the write-ups on the interviews for Princeton, I feel I have done more than my share of school applications recently. Especially for someone who's not even going to school herself.



 

On the Fence

Leave it to my 17 year-old visiting nephew to take something as innocent as a railing and make it, well, less innocent.

While visiting the marvelous, somewhat-hidden courtyard of the Hotel de Sully (not a hotel, but rather a 17th century mansion), he suddenly starts cracking up and taking photos of a railing. I can't see why at first, stodgy old lady that I am. Then it clicks. Oh. That.

And now, of course, I can't see anything else. So I feel compelled to snap two of the manliest men I know -- my husband and a visiting friend, James -- in front of the manliest fence I know.

 

 

Invisible Neighbors

Look at these views of and from our building. Notice anything? Despite the fact that these are taken at reasonable hours -- around 9pm, at different times of year -- there are almost no lights on. We're pretty sure that the people aren't just sitting around in the dark. There is just very low residency, since it's a desirable neighborhood to own a little (million dollar or more) pied-a-terre.

 

 

 

Down at the far end of Ile St. Louis, the Hotel Lambert is being renovated; despite the name, it's not a hotel in the English sense of the word but rather the French, meaning "mansion". A Qatari prince bought it from the de Rothschilds in 2007 for around $111 million, with proposed renovations that will, supposedly, roughly double the cost. Some of these were controversial, since it is a designated historical building, but he finally got approval, and work has begun. Besides bringing back many rooms to their former glory, he's also allowed to modernize a bit and put in, among other technologies, air conditioning. I have to say, that seems barely necessary here (only a couple weeks a year), and he could've knocked fifty thousand off the construction costs right there.

There's the new rich, the old rich, and the movie-star rich, all on our one tiny island. But despite our lofty neighbors (but not neighbors in lofts: strictly old-school here), we are not the only non-rich, non-famous, non-royal, non-Qatari people living here. Three of Pippa's and Gigi's classmates do, in fact, live on the island and all, coincidentally and confusingly, with the same given name. One of them lives on the island across the street from her mother's childhood home, where the grandmother not only still lives but also grew up. So it is a place for "real" families too.

Ile St. Louis has oodles of charm, and the French themselves wax rhapsodic about it. Since it transformed from "Cow Island," where the cattle belonging to the Cathedral of Notre Dame grazed in the 17th century, the island has almost always had an air of grandeur, with mansions on the quais and a parade of who's who residents (Balzac, Baudelaire, Marie Curie, Voltaire, Hemingway, Georges Pompidou, Camille Claudel, and Jodie Foster). Sometimes it's actually a little embarrassing to tell people we live here; in order to de-snobbify the situation, we feel we need to qualify it with an explanation that we got really lucky, and got a good deal. (Or that we will somebody be rich and famous?)

Pippa's friend's grandmother tells me that until about ten, twenty years ago, it was not a heavily touristy island, and the shops down below were mostly little grocers. Now, besides the one or two wildly overpriced emergency food shops, it's mostly expensive jewelry, clothing boutiques, restaurants, and a few souvenir shops. The grandmother remembers when it had a rat problem, before the gentrification. I'm kind of happy the rats are gone, but if I had a time machine, I would love to go back and see it before it became such a destination. And to buy some real estate at twenty-years-ago prices, natch.

But why do they sit empty? There are a few big reasons, even besides the fact the many of these owners don't need to worry about the rental income. One is that property taxes are low here, so inherited or fully-paid-for apartments do not cost much to upkeep. More importanty, if you thought it was bad to be a landlord in the Bay Area (hello, rent control!), French tenancy laws make San Francisco and Berkeley look positively right-wing. At the moment, the law is such that nobody can be evicted, for any reason at all, between the months of October to May (the point being, it's too cold to put somebody on the streets). The current administration, much more left than the previous, has proposed extending this to a year-round no-eviction ban.

Under the current system, it is already extremely difficult to get somebody out of an apartment, even for excellent cause, and even during the summer. Everybody has horror stories to share about somebody they knew (either tenant or landlord) in a situation where even respectable, well-heeled tenants simply stopped paying, for years on end, because essentially they knew there would be no repercussions. It is slightly easier to get somebody out of a furnished apartment, which is why, when apartment hunting, one will see many "furnished" apartments that basically consist of a few junky pieces of mismatched garage sale furniture. I also think it is one reason why our own landlords were more willing to rent to us. Originally, they weren't even planning to rent their apartment, probably for the reasons listed. But we were introduced through a mutual friend, so we came recommended. Plus: ex-pats have a good reputation both for paying and -- most important -- for eventually leaving.

 

Room with a View

Well, this blog has just passed 20,000 views, and that doesn't even include those of you who receive it by e-mail. I've been writing for just over a year, and what started as a blog for friends and family has expanded its circle of readership considerably.

This is the desk where I write; if I need inspiration, I just look out the window at the Seine, and the spire and tower tops of Notre Dame.  While looking at my workspace, in it's natural state, just remember that Einstein once said, "If a cluttered desk signs a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?"

Of course, some posts are more inspired than others. In case you're wondering, the most popular posting is....probably not one you would have predicted. At least it's not one I predicted. Just breaking the 8,000 view barrier is, drumroll please: Un-continent. It has gone mini-viral, and I think it's largely responsible for my rather diverse readership. Just from the moments I've checked, readers of this blog have come from many countries, some also not ones I would have predicted, from both continents and un-continents. Besides the obvious -- the US and France -- we have:

India, England, Australia, South Korea, Philippines, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Greece, Rwanda, Thailand, Russia, Germany, Romania, Pakistan, Hong Kong, Namibia, Mexico, Albania, Trinidad & Tobago, Spain, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, Netherlands, Malaysia, Kuwait, Colombia, Cambodia, Peru, Jamaica, Czech Republic, Guam, Qatar, Belgium, New Zealand, Guyana, Ireland, Nigeria, Portugal, Macedonia, Denmark, Mongolia, Switzerland, Bahrain, Latvia, Antigua & Barbuda, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Puerto Rico, Malta, Bahamas, Dominican Republic, Vietnam, Norway, Cyprus, Moldova, Egypt, Nepal, Poland, Canada, Serbia, Jordan, Macau, Costa Rica, Oman, Isle of Man, Ukraine, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, South Africa, Croatia, Bulgaria, Israel, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Lithuania, Netherlands Antilles, Brunei, Taiwan, Maldives, Northern Mariana Islands, Argentinia, Sweden, Montenegro, Slovakia, Morocco, and Kazakhstan.

And because this is the sort of time-wasting thing I enjoy doing (like organizing a crayon box or matching socks from the laundry), here is the same list in alphabetical order:

Albania, Antigua & Barbuda, Argentinia, Australia, Bahamas, Bahrain, Bangladesh, Belgium, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Brunei, Bulgaria, Cambodia, Canada, Colombia, Costa Rica, Croatia, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Denmark, Dominican Republic, England, Egypt, Germany,Greece, Guam, Guyana, Hong Kong, India, Ireland, Isle of Man, Jamaica, Israel, Jordan, Kazakhstan, Kuwait, Latvia, Lithuania, Macau, Macedonia, Malaysia, Maldives, Malta, Mexico, Montenegro, Moldova, Mongolia, Morocco, Namibia, Nepal, Netherlands, Netherlands Antilles, New Zealand, Nigeria, Northern Mariana Islands, Norway, Oman, Pakistan, Peru, Philippines, Poland, Portugal, Puerto Rico, Qatar, Romania, Russia, Rwanda, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Saudi Arabia, Serbia, Singapore, Slovakia, South Africa, South Korea, Spain, Sri Lanka, Sweden, Switzerland, Taiwan, Thailand, Trinidad & Tobago, Turkey, Ukraine, United Arab Emirates, and Vietnam.

(And, while I'm at it, Gigi's own blog www.amikuku.wordpress.com, which is about dance from around the world, has nearly 300 views in five months from the US, UK, France, Cook Islands, Netherlands, India, Canada, Austria, Australia, Japan, Philippines, Hungary, Thailand, Indonesia, Lebanon, Singapore, Hong Kong, and United Arab Emirates. She is completely thrilled every time a new country appears and immediately tries to find it on the map. I say "tries" because it is, seriously, very difficult to find the Cook Islands. But so, so rewarding and exciting once she succeeds!)

Here on Family by the Seine, far behind Un-continent but rounding out the top ten most popular postings are:
Teeny-Weeny Monokini (over 300 views)
Ode to Toffifee (another surprise to me at nearly 200)
Happy Eater! (nearly 200)
Birthday Belly in a Doggie Bag (over 100)
and coming in at just under 100 views so far
Family News, Non Witty Posting (not about France, but news of my father-in-law's passing)
My Husband's French Mistress
We Protest
Playing Handball
Bureacracy: Coming Soon to a Theater Near You!

These numbers don't include the blogs and postings on mytravels outside of France. That would add another few thousand pageviews. And perhaps not surprisingly these travel blogs are popular in pretty much the exact order in which they are considered exotic to my mostly American and French friends and family:

Family Goes to India                              http://familygoestoindia.blogspot.com/

Family Rocks the Kasbah (Morocco)     http://familyrocksthekasbah.blogspot.com/

Family in Croatia                                    http://familyincroatia.blogspot.com/

Family on the Emerald Isle (Ireland)      http://familyontheemeraldisle.blogspot.com/

Family in New England (US)                 http://familyinnewengland.blogspot.com/

Family in Jolly Old (England)                http://familyinjollyold.blogspot.com/

Of these non-French travel blogs, the top ten most popular posts (in order) are:

Porno Puppets & Other Obscenities (India)
Indelible Images of India
1001 (Dollar) Arabian Night (Morocco)
Fatehpur Sikri, The Ghost Palace (India)
Leapin' Elephants (India)
Flying Carpets (Morocco)
Road Rules and F***ing Asses (India)
Donkey & Monkeys: Why Doesn't That Rhyme? (Morocco)
Anthony We're So Sari (India)
Oops! Are We Missing Something? (Morocco)

Now, of course, just because these are the most popular posts and blogs, doesn't mean they're the best, or even my own favorites. Sometimes, your selections surprise me very much. But no matter what you pick, it's much more fun for me to know that people out there are reading and sharing. I must admit, I'm absolutely consumed with curiosity and wish that, in particular, I could meet the readers from the countries where I don't know anybody (or I don't know that I know anybody). More postings and other writing project news coming soon. In the meantime, thanks for reading!

The Politics of Wednesdays

Pippa comes home recently and proclaims, "I don't like President Hollande. I'm against him. My whole class is against him!" It is her first independent expression of political outrage, not one that's just repeating my own political outrage.

What on Earth could the French government have done to inspire this sort of unified opposition from a bunch of seven-year olds? It is threatening to introduce school on Wednesday mornings, where there currently is nothing but a day off. The day is used by most French kids with a stay-at-home parent or nanny for a little lie in, extended pajama time, and day of extracurricular lessons. We spend four hours in the gym every Wednesday afternoon for the girls to take gymnastics, for example. Wednesday morning in our house is officially known as "English Day," in which the girls read and write in English in an attempt to keep their skills up to snuff. The point is, we do it all in our pajamas. It's heaven.

But it's not just the elementary school students and parents who favor comfortable lounge-wear that are opposed (middle and high school students already have school on Wednesday mornings, at least, so are not affected). Public school teachers in Paris have gone on strike twice in the past few weeks to protest the proposed change -- which will not increase the number of hours of classtime, nor the amount of teacher's pay.

That bears re-stating, because it's highly counter-intuitive. In accordance with the Hollande-led plan, the Paris government originally proposed to take away 45 minutes of class-time on the four existing days -- Mon, Tues, Thurs, and Fri. These extra 45 minutes would be added to the approximately 1½ - 2 hour lunch time (depending on private or public schools), so that children would either go home for a 2-3 hour lunch break, or stay at school and have a full 1½ - 2 hour recess. If you realize that Parisian recess yards are essentially poorly-supervised, overcrowded, paved courtyards, this is not as enticing as it sounds.

Teachers, of course, would then be paid for the corresponding 45 fewer minutes per day, since they are only paid for actual class-time, not the total school day. If you were still required to be at school from 8:30 till 4:30, but now you were losing almost an hour of pay, you too would be annoyed.

Then, children -- and teachers -- would come in Wednesday mornings to make up those extra three hours. The teacher would have to come back in on what had formerly been a day off to make up the same amount of pay-hours they used to have. I think I'd go on strike over that, too. Meanwhile, the students would have absolutely no additional classroom hours and would, therefore, not be any further ahead academically. So, frankly, even as a parent, I see Pippa's point.

After the two recent strikes, the mayor of Paris has backtracked and announced there will be a small period of reflection, and it's possible these or revised scheduling changes (adding Wednesday, but making the school days end 45 minutes earlier) will be postponed until the 2014 school year. It's probably because of the leverage of the teachers' strikes and the parents' support for the teachers' cause. But, personally, I'd be a lot more afraid of a mob of angry seven-year olds.

 

High and Dry

Last year, as a six-year old new to this "island living" thing we're doing here on Ile St. Louis, Pippa looked around the swollen Seine in all directions outside our "shores" and asked if we would float away. This, of course, seems a little preposterous, but it has looked a bit like that the past couple weeks.

You can see there's no walking along the Seine.

There is driving -- but only just in the last day or two. For weeks, there have been no cars on the roads along the Seine. How could there be? They would have had to run over the ducks and swans that were swimming all the way up to the base of the building in this picture. I must admit that it seemed like the waters would never recede, so I postponed getting the photo a bit too long, but take my word for it.

Pippa's fear (which, I should tell you, she did not have this year, despite bigger rains and floods) is not so totally unfounded. I mean, the islands aren't in danger of floating away, but they have been flooded in modern history. Once. In the 1910 Great Flood of Paris, which supposedly can't be repeated due to better dams and water control systems. Over a hundred years ago, the water did not actually overflow from the river, though the pictures nearly look like it, but rather came up through the sewers and subway tunnels and drains. Streets were covered, with the water about 20 feet above normal level, and people got around by little canoes. One can imagine how fabulous the city smelled.

photos from: http://www.vintag.es/2011/08/paris-flood-1910.html

The city measures floods by the "Zouave", a statue on one of the bridges (Pont de l'Alma) which was, in fact, underwater in the 1910 flood. The Zouave has remained happy and dry last year and this year -- despite this being the highest level for the Seine that anybody can remember. I'm glad these historical photos of the 1910 flood exist, but I'm also glad I'm not able to re-create them.

photo from: http://www.vintag.es/2011/08/paris-flood-1910.html