Mali et encore

There are days when I think that I used to live on another planet, maybe one left over, undiscovered  or ignored by the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Stories about the US in French, be it from le Canard Enchaine (satire), Liberation (left), le Figaro,(right), le Monde (somewhere in the center, leaning left), le Parisien (sports, sports, and a little bit of daily life)  bare almost no resemblance to the news that I hear from the US media. I exaggerate only a little: the International Herald Tribune is owned by the Gray Lady, and so, I don't really bother to read the American press here. I like to improve my French by watching tv (the parts that aren't just dubbed-over sitcoms, anyway,) and then it's much more fun reading satire, even if I only understand about 2/3 of what is written. My friends assure me that everyone pretends to understand le Canard, but the reality is that the troisieme degre is only understood by those that write the stores. Hmmm, I don't know about - it sounds like my friends are trying to make me feel good, in the same way that they boost A's ego when they tell him that everyone flunks dictees in French class.

Soooo.

Case in point: the latest Western incursion into Africa. French news is full of wonderful stories about how the Islamic fundamentalists are on the run in Mali, having been evinced from Gao and Timbukto. Apparently this was easily done, because the only seeming tragedy is the almost total loss of the historic library (with many, many rare manuscripts from the High Middle Ages) to fires set by the Jihad army before it fled towards the Algerian border. Oh, and tonight, there were two (yes, two!!) prisoners that were shown to the tv commentator from one of the major French stations, FR2. Really? Two, only? Everyone else got away?
(Update 1/30: it seems now that only 10 percent of the library was destroyed, which is terrible enough...)

And if I take a look at a random American paper, I see this: the war is going terribly, and the US will probably have to get involved. Wait! The US is providing troop transport???? Whaaaa? Didn't see that before. And the jihadists are not on the run? Well waddya know? Or maybe more importantly, who can you trust? One thing is for sure, when I travelled around Russia during the winter of 1981-82, my Russian friends, speaking their minds only on walks in the park, assured me that they could trust Pravda, because anything that was written in that paper of record was the complete opposite of the on-the-ground reality. Solidarity, Walesa, the incursion into Poland to help out? Nothing there, nothing important, anyway. I wish we had some of that same conviction today.

http://www.liberation.fr/monde/2013/01/29/tombouctou-et-apres_877615

http://www.usatoday.com/story/opinion/2013/01/28/dewayne-wickham-on-mali-and-us-involvement/1868185/

Skiing

We got back late last night from a fabulous weekend skiing at Le Grand Bornand. It was more than a bit difficult to get out of Paris - 2 hours of under 60k/hr driving were more than slightly irritating, especially as this meant we didn't get to our hotel until 2 am. Waking up to vivid blue skies, with the sun reflecting off the thick snow cover, however, more than made up for the loooonng drive. After nearly six months of absorbing energy through thick gray clouds, I confess to having forgotten about the regenerative powers of natural vitamin D. The sun comes up late, so even though we slept in a bit, we were able to ski until dinner, and thoroughly explore all sides of the mountain.

The price of the lift tickets (23Euros adult.21Euros/kids) made me wonder about how (lack of) regulation of the litigation industry in the US has permeated our lives. Why should tickets at Sunday River (for example) or Loon, or...(fill in the blank) be almost twice as expensive, especially given that the price of energy (for lifts/snowmaking/grooming/lighting/...) is much less in the US, that the cost of labor is much cheaper in the US.) Could it be the insurance costs that account for at least part of the price differential? And if so, what does that mean for other areas in our lives? (recreation, food, and health care come immediately to mind.) The solution in France for medical malpractice, for example, is not entirely pecuniary, and looks more at the societal relationship between the injured and the medical (practitioner/hospital). Concretely, this means that there are a very limited number of malpractice cases that are brought before the various courts. (follow the link at http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1965563## for a very interesting comparison between the French and American medico-legal system.)  Likewise, it is inconceivable that a restaurant that serves hot coffee would be forced to pay enormous sums to a consumer for a spilled drink, even if burns were the result. When stories, such as the punitive award for a spilled McDonald's coffee, cross the Atlantic, the common reaction here is a Gallic eye-roll.

The winds of...

Does anyone remember the destruction of Chernobyl - - the panic that we all felt? The shocking pictures of the destroyed land around the reactors? The stories of the destroyed lives? I remember the laughter of friends as they told me to avoid the wild mushrooms at the local market, reminding me of their biological cleaning properties. The laughter of derision, I should say, because as it was becoming clear that the winds were spreading particles around the world, a television presenter explained that France was protected by anti-cyclonic winds coming from the Azores. Clearly, the toxic particles had stopped at the frontier and the Hexagon and its people were safe. (Liberty of the press has a different meaning in France than it does in the US. And in 1986, there were 3 major television stations. Competition would not really get underway until much later in the decade.)

I was reminded of this bit of doublespeak this morning when I woke up and turned on the news. Apparently I wasn't the only one who woke up in the middle of the night smelling gas. We compared stories this morning: so what time did you wake up? And did you check it out? The husband of one of my friends (the guy who could sleep through an earthquake) was so concerned that he got dressed and walked down the street to find out if any building in the neighborhood was on fire. I only made sure that the gas on the stove was turned off. Realizing that the smell wasn't inside the building, I shut the windows and went back to (restless) sleep.

The news was re-assuring this morning. Yes, the odor began yesterday in Normandy. Yes, folks in south-east England could smell the fumes. So could the Parisians. But...

Nothing to see hear, nothing toxic. Vomiting you say? Well, the smell was a bit strong. From 150 kilometers away. But don't worry. Nothing toxic... at least that's what we're told by the regional political authority (le prefet) and right up the line to Paris where the powerful Interior Ministry told us that the gas "didn't present any health risks."

So comforting, so reassuring. Now where's the bottle of ibuprofen?

Found on a wall

Heh.

Saturday find at the market

Today's find at the market was from the seafood guy: octopus tentacles. I'll confess straight away that this wasn't my first choice. I have eaten some wonderful octopus in my time, usually right off the grill, but the couple of times that I have tried to cook it myself have left me with hard, chewy morsels that reminded me more of a rubber ball than a seafood delicacy. But how can you resist the plea of an intrepid almost-teen?

So, what we have here is slightly over one pound of octopus. The recipe called for cooking it in white wine (I used a cheap Muscadet from the Loire Valley,  tomatoes, garlic, and a lot of time (an hour.) Served with a fresh mesclun salad (another fantastic find from the maraicher just down the alley from the seafood guy,

and a little bit of rice... yummy goodness.  

And so it begins...

Yesterday, Saturday, I woke up to news headlines announcing that France had unsuccessfully tried to rescue a soldier held hostage in Somalia since 2009. And that French troops had entered into Mali at the request of the Malian government in Bamako for help in getting rid of the extreme Islamists in the north of the country. And that a demonstration against gay marriage is expected to draw upwards of 500,000 people on Sunday (today.) Coming on the heels of the announcement of an assassination in Paris of three Kurdish activists on Friday made me want to turn the radio off and go back to bed.

The first two items mean that the government has decided to step up the level of the national program  "Vigipirate." Apparently the plan has been around since 1978, but the first time I remember living through the implementation of Vigipirate was in 1995 when there was a wave of terrorist attacks that hit France, including several deadly bombings in the Paris metro (one of my teachers ended up in the hospital for several months, having barely escaped with his life.) The effect of the plan was frightening: CRS carrying submachine guns on subways and trains became a factor of ordinary life (the CRS are the police that are traditionally used for crowd control - no joking around here); metal barricades were put in front of schools and public buildings (reducing road width and number of parking spaces, and creating massive traffic jams as an unintended corollary); and - the action that touched me the most personally - in order to get into church for services, I had to have my purse searched, and submit to a metal detecting wand before being waved into the building.

It was interesting watching the news last night. The presenter had a member of his government as an invited guest, and some of the questions were quite direct. "France has promised not to take the lead in combatting international terrorism, so why are we going in to Mali, now?" Unfortunately, the answer was a typical non-answer. I suppose that politicians are fairly similar around the world in their grasp of bureaucra-speak.

On a personal note, I wonder what Vigipirate will mean this time around, and what it means to have so many people on the streets.  The politics are not mine - but I can guarantee that today is not the day to try to take a bus or taxi. It means that getting to my mother-in-law's place for Sunday dinner will be a rather longish trip, and I am sure my family will let me know what they think of it all.