Four or five years ago Hubby gave me a pink mini iPod for my b-day. It was one of the very first models that had come out, the cool really pale pink one, and needless to say, I instantly fell in love with the darn gadget. It went with me everywhere and it quickly became my most prized possession.
One day, I was walking to work as usual, listening to music with my iPod fastened to my belt when out of the blue I felt a sudden tug and the music suddenly went dead. I remember screaming and found myself turning around to see a guy running away from me, my sad little pink iPod in his hands. All that I had left were the dangling earphones still suck in my ears and my shaking legs.
The very next day I went to the Fnac and bought myself the same exact model and went back to that street to (symbolically obviously) show that bastard I wasn't afraid of him. Except it wasn't the same exact model. In the time I'd owned mine, Apple had upgraded their mini iPod models and now the pink version came in a much stronger, much fuchsia-er shade.... I still bought it, but it just wasn't the same. I still miss that little pink gadget, even though wherever it is, it's probably too old and too slow, if it still works at all.
I hadn't thought about it in a long time. Until this evening.
My iPhone has currently taken the place of most beloved item in my possession (except over my engagement ring, which still holds the number one slot). So there I was, like any other night on my way home, riding the subway while intently catching up on all the celebrity gossip on my iPhone (this is my way of "winding down" in the evening, so sue me) when out of nowhere a hand flew over my phone and snatched it from my fingers! I remember a half growl/half scream erupted from the deepest part of my throat in the form of a "no!" as I felt my phone slip through my fingers.
Two things happened exactly at the same moment: an instantaneous feeling of immense loss swelled up in my stomach and I heard a soft 'thump' on the floor beside me.
I looked down and saw my iPhone facing down on the floor only a few inches away from my left foot. I immediately looked up and saw the man who'd tried to snatch it from me trying to wiggle his way free from the wagon's doors which had trapped him on his way out. Our eyes met for what surely must have been a nano second but I instantly saw that he was still going to make a plunge for it. And he did. He lunged forward and as his fingers caressed that glossy black case another throaty "no!" rose up from me and I immediately let my foot down over the phone.
It's funny what goes through your mind in moments like this. At that exact moment I remember thinking "crap! now I'm sure I've scratched it!"...
Lucky for me, Apple did a crappy job at making iPhones immune to greasy hands and mine was particularly greasy after a long day of lugging it with me all over the place.
The thief's fingers slipped a second time and this time I simply bent down, picked up my phone from under my shoe where I'd trapped it so he couldn't try a third time and carefully examined it to see if indeed it was damaged.
In retrospect I realize it must have looked really odd to the people sitting in the wagon around us. There he was, a thief caught in between the doors of a metro wagon trying to wiggle his way free seconds after having tried to pry my phone from my hands and there was I, only a few inches away, daintily sitting in my prim suit, with my cute highlights and my pretty ballerina shoes, calmly and carefully examining my precious, retrieved phone.
I didn't give him a second look although I did hear the doors shut behind him as he finally managed to shove his body out of the car and on to the platform.
In all, the whole thing must have lasted no more than 10 seconds and somehow I managed to not freak out while it was happening. I realized later I didn't even move from my sitting position! As soon as the wagon started to move, the woman sitting next to me told me how awed she was at my reflexes while the girl sitting across from me said how it all happened so fast. Incidentally, the guy standing by the pole (and only a few inches from where everything happened) didn't move an inch. Typical!
I admit I did start shaking a little afterward, specially when I saw the red scratch marks on my hands and felt the tingling sensation his sudden snatching maneuver left on my skin. Still, I kept calm and continued to read my gossip tweets as if nothing at all had happened until it was time for me to get off... and I do admit after that, I tucked my phone safely away in my purse and didn't take it out again while I rode the second part of my commute back home.
In any case, it's strange to say this but I actually feel kinda happy.... almost giddy you could say. As if by saving my dear iPhone this time around, I sort of avenged my old pink mini iPod from all those years ago.
Plus, I bet you all those passengers are now sitting down at their dinner table telling their family about that "badass chic in a suit that avoided getting mugged in the subway.... all while not having to move an inch from her seat".
:D
Fned.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Fun weekend!
Although in the past I've often raved about how much I love "nothing weekends", (the kind you spend both days in your pj's doing exactly that, nothing)... I do enjoy an eventful weekend from time to time... it makes me somehow feel like I didn't waste the precious moments of fresh air and warm sunshine I otherwise rarely get to enjoy when stuck 5 days in between four walls from 9am to 9pm....
And this weekend was a particularly eventful weekend if ever there was one. Friday night set the tempo when I left the office at a pretty decent time (8:30pm) having wrapped up the very last part of one of the heavier projects I've been recently working on. As I set out into the cool evening air, I was feeling pretty good and not only about finishing the project, but especially because I had planned to stop by Ksam's b-day party that night. Ksam had invited a bunch of the Rhum-Rhum gang to the Long Hop and it was fun seeing a lot of them again after such long time. Also, it was so neat to be back at the Long Hop. For those of you who don't know, this is the place I met Hubby at, only 3 weeks after having arrived in France. It was so amazing to be back there and see that it hadn't changed a bit in these past 7 years... I even spotted the exact same table Hubby and I sat at that evening.
I couldn't stay long with Ksam and the gang though because Hubby had received word that morning that his best friend and his fiancée were in town and would be staying with us that evening so he'd made a plan to meet up for dinner with them. They were waiting for me at Odéon and we dined at the Café Les Editeurs, a really neat restaurant just off of the Bd Saint-Michel which Hubby and I had spotted several times but never actually been there yet. It was a nice evening and we had fun catching up with N&I and hearing all about their wedding plans in Milwaukee in a few months (which we are so excited we're going to be able to attend! yipee!)...
Our friends had to leave for Bretagne early the next morning which turned out to be a good thing actually because it had me wake up early to say goodbye and therefore start the day earlier than is my regular custom on Saturdays... this means that by 11am I was up and ready to hit the gym, something which I usually groan at the idea of doing so early on a Saturday. Workout behind me, it was time to concentrate on the fun part scheduled for the day: some selfish pampering and a little shopping. What more can a girl ask for?
I had a 2pm appointment at the hair salon where years earlier the owner had done my highlights for my wedding, which turned out to look fantastic. Unfortunately, soon after the wedding I went back to his salon and found him to be a total snob so I decided to never go back. That was over 4 years ago and ever since, I've been to several different places and never found anyone as good as him. So I decided to swallow my pride and go back again this Saturday. And it was worth it. I swear the guy is a genius! Not only do my highlights look fabulous (if I do say so myself) but he even gave me the exact hair cut I asked for (literally, a first since I've been living here!). And this time, I realized that his "snobbish" attitude makes him actually kind of endearing. We totally hit it off this time around, I promised to remain "faithful" to him from now on and in turn he graced me with a haughty "umph!" and a chocolate macaron!... ;)
Then there was the shopping. I'd like to first point out that the last time I went shopping for clothes was way back in November and only because I had a big client event coming up and needed to get something to wear. Last fall, Hubby and I agreed that we would be really careful about money so that we could do all the traveling we'd planned to do this year and so far we've stuck to the plan and been pretty good about it. But this weekend we both realized we needed to get some "basics" (as in underwear, white tee shirts, etc.) and since the annual summer soldes (sales) kicked off this weekend we figured we'd take advantage. That wasn't counting on a) all the pent-up frustration from all of these non-shopping months and b) the absolutely great sales going on around in all the shops that were just too good to pass up. So we had a little fun and got some pretty cool stuff. My personal favorite is a a long gray summer linen dress which I got at Naf Naf at 50% off and which I absolutely adore. Comfy, pretty and so totally chic!! And Hubby finally succumbed to fashion and got a pair of Convers, something only a little over a year ago he vehemently told me he would never be caught dead in! LOL...
By then it was time to get back home and we decided to somehow make up for the "shopping binge" by eating leftovers... with a twist. We opened the fridge and took out the what we found -not much-... still, Hubby still managed to concoct a delicious dinner of marinated chicken and greek salad with some tasty Proseco wine we'd brought back with us from our trip to Venice. D-e-l-i-c-i-o-u-s...
This morning, we decided to get up early and get all the boring house chores over with so that we could enjoy the rest of the (sunny) day outside. By 1pm we were out the doors. We still had a little shopping to do (the day before we'd totally forgotten about the basics we'd set out to get in the first place!) and since a lot of the shops in Paris were open on Sunday, this being the first weekend of the Soldes, it was off to buying underwear and socks. We were wondering what to do next when I remembered somebody mentioning what a great movie "The Hangover" was so we decided to check it out.
If you are in the mood for a funny, and I mean freaking hilarious, movie, this one is it. I can honestly say I haven't laughed this much in months! It's definitely worth the 10 bucks (or whatever the cinema tickets are going for in the US nowadays)... trust me... the movie is effin great!!!!!!!!!
Anyway, so here we are, back at home, getting ready to start yet another hectic week of "metro-boulot-dodo" (subway-work-sleep)... except that for the first time in a long time I actually feel fresh and relaxed, as opposed todepressed and fed up which is how I usually feel on Sunday evenings...
I guess an eventful weekend can have that effect on ya sometimes...
Have a great week everyone!
Fned.
And this weekend was a particularly eventful weekend if ever there was one. Friday night set the tempo when I left the office at a pretty decent time (8:30pm) having wrapped up the very last part of one of the heavier projects I've been recently working on. As I set out into the cool evening air, I was feeling pretty good and not only about finishing the project, but especially because I had planned to stop by Ksam's b-day party that night. Ksam had invited a bunch of the Rhum-Rhum gang to the Long Hop and it was fun seeing a lot of them again after such long time. Also, it was so neat to be back at the Long Hop. For those of you who don't know, this is the place I met Hubby at, only 3 weeks after having arrived in France. It was so amazing to be back there and see that it hadn't changed a bit in these past 7 years... I even spotted the exact same table Hubby and I sat at that evening.
I couldn't stay long with Ksam and the gang though because Hubby had received word that morning that his best friend and his fiancée were in town and would be staying with us that evening so he'd made a plan to meet up for dinner with them. They were waiting for me at Odéon and we dined at the Café Les Editeurs, a really neat restaurant just off of the Bd Saint-Michel which Hubby and I had spotted several times but never actually been there yet. It was a nice evening and we had fun catching up with N&I and hearing all about their wedding plans in Milwaukee in a few months (which we are so excited we're going to be able to attend! yipee!)...
Our friends had to leave for Bretagne early the next morning which turned out to be a good thing actually because it had me wake up early to say goodbye and therefore start the day earlier than is my regular custom on Saturdays... this means that by 11am I was up and ready to hit the gym, something which I usually groan at the idea of doing so early on a Saturday. Workout behind me, it was time to concentrate on the fun part scheduled for the day: some selfish pampering and a little shopping. What more can a girl ask for?
I had a 2pm appointment at the hair salon where years earlier the owner had done my highlights for my wedding, which turned out to look fantastic. Unfortunately, soon after the wedding I went back to his salon and found him to be a total snob so I decided to never go back. That was over 4 years ago and ever since, I've been to several different places and never found anyone as good as him. So I decided to swallow my pride and go back again this Saturday. And it was worth it. I swear the guy is a genius! Not only do my highlights look fabulous (if I do say so myself) but he even gave me the exact hair cut I asked for (literally, a first since I've been living here!). And this time, I realized that his "snobbish" attitude makes him actually kind of endearing. We totally hit it off this time around, I promised to remain "faithful" to him from now on and in turn he graced me with a haughty "umph!" and a chocolate macaron!... ;)
Then there was the shopping. I'd like to first point out that the last time I went shopping for clothes was way back in November and only because I had a big client event coming up and needed to get something to wear. Last fall, Hubby and I agreed that we would be really careful about money so that we could do all the traveling we'd planned to do this year and so far we've stuck to the plan and been pretty good about it. But this weekend we both realized we needed to get some "basics" (as in underwear, white tee shirts, etc.) and since the annual summer soldes (sales) kicked off this weekend we figured we'd take advantage. That wasn't counting on a) all the pent-up frustration from all of these non-shopping months and b) the absolutely great sales going on around in all the shops that were just too good to pass up. So we had a little fun and got some pretty cool stuff. My personal favorite is a a long gray summer linen dress which I got at Naf Naf at 50% off and which I absolutely adore. Comfy, pretty and so totally chic!! And Hubby finally succumbed to fashion and got a pair of Convers, something only a little over a year ago he vehemently told me he would never be caught dead in! LOL...
By then it was time to get back home and we decided to somehow make up for the "shopping binge" by eating leftovers... with a twist. We opened the fridge and took out the what we found -not much-... still, Hubby still managed to concoct a delicious dinner of marinated chicken and greek salad with some tasty Proseco wine we'd brought back with us from our trip to Venice. D-e-l-i-c-i-o-u-s...
This morning, we decided to get up early and get all the boring house chores over with so that we could enjoy the rest of the (sunny) day outside. By 1pm we were out the doors. We still had a little shopping to do (the day before we'd totally forgotten about the basics we'd set out to get in the first place!) and since a lot of the shops in Paris were open on Sunday, this being the first weekend of the Soldes, it was off to buying underwear and socks. We were wondering what to do next when I remembered somebody mentioning what a great movie "The Hangover" was so we decided to check it out.
If you are in the mood for a funny, and I mean freaking hilarious, movie, this one is it. I can honestly say I haven't laughed this much in months! It's definitely worth the 10 bucks (or whatever the cinema tickets are going for in the US nowadays)... trust me... the movie is effin great!!!!!!!!!
Anyway, so here we are, back at home, getting ready to start yet another hectic week of "metro-boulot-dodo" (subway-work-sleep)... except that for the first time in a long time I actually feel fresh and relaxed, as opposed todepressed and fed up which is how I usually feel on Sunday evenings...
I guess an eventful weekend can have that effect on ya sometimes...
Have a great week everyone!
Fned.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
The List
Andromeda posted a list a few weeks ago on the things she'd like to do before turning 30 and that's when it hit me: I'm turning 30 in less than 10 weeks from now!!!
So where's my list? What were the goals I wanted to achieve before reaching this emblematic age?
Funny enough, you would think I'd made up a list when I turned 20 about the things I wanted to have done by the time I turned 30... but actually I never did.
Looking back I realize this is because I wanted my life to turn out as unpredictable as possible and I guess having a "to do list" kindda takes away a little of the unpredictable part. There has always been things that I've wanted to do in my life before I kick the bucket and for the most part that includes places I want to travel to or things I want to see with my own eyes, but I'm not sure I ever consciously put a deadline on by when I should have achieved these things.
For the most part, I'm pretty happy about how these (almost) 30 years have turned out so far. I guess there is still stuff I would have liked to have done much sooner (or at all for that matter) but on the whole, I'm pretty satisfied.
So how about this? here's my List "of things I didn't set out to do, but did, before I turned 30":
- Move to another country
- Learn a new language
- Have a weird roommate
- Visit the Eiffel Tower
- Visit the Vatican and see the Sistine Chapel
- Go to Japan
- Visit the Alhambra
- Travel to South America
- Get married in a Castle in France
- Have a "business meeting" with Tequila Exporters
- Visit the Leaning Tower of Pisa
- Visit Guanajuato
- Introduce my french finacé to my mexican / american family
- See the Mona Lisa
- Get my thesis finished and forget to pick up my degree (which must be rotting in the basement of a SEP building somewhere in Mexico)
- Visit Istanbul, the Blue mosque and the Sainte Sophia
- Drink Guinness pints like there is no tomorrow in a pub in Glasgow
- Live in a co-ed, international dorm and hang out with people from all four corners of the planet.
- Stand atop the Parthenon in Athens on a hot summer day
- Sleep in a nun's convent-turned hostel in Florence
- Camp under the stars in the basque country
- Discover I have long lost family living in Spain and France
- Meet members of the EZLN at a friend's house in Palenque, Chiapas
- Walk in a century old Jewish cemetery in Prague
- Walk in millennial Jerusalem city
- Stand inside the Nobel Prize Awards' ballroom in Stockholm
- Eat Pastel de Choclo
- Watch the sun go down over the Danube river in Budapest
- Eat a "special brownie" and then have to find my way back to the hotel in the middle of a Rave/Gay Parade under the rain in Amsterdam
- Touch the Wailing Wall
- Touch the Saint Sepulcher
- Touch the Dome of the Rock
- Touch the Largest Buddha in Japan's foot in Nara
- Become a vegetarian for a couple of years and realize it's not for me
- Become the owner of an apartment in Paris, France
- Work for a company with questionable ethics
- Work for a guy who made a living out of scamming people
- Work for a bank
- Drive on the right side of a car and on the right side of the road in Ireland
- Hear the Big Ben chime noon
- Swim in the Dead Sea
- Kayak down a river and ride a horse up a mountain in Argentina
- Become a Blogger
As I write this list I realize there are still hundreds of things that I want to do. I'm guessing I wont be checking them off my list before I turn 30 so they're now officially marked in the "to be completed at some point" list.
- Visit the Egyptian pyramids
- Go back to Japan (better yet, move there)
- Visit more of Asia (Thailand, Singapore, Bali, Malaysia, New Zeland, Australia...)
- Go to Cuba
- Learn a new language
- Go to Morocco, Alger and Tunisia
- Visit Portugal
- Stand in the middle of the Red Square in Russia
- Take a sabbatical from work and go teach english in Japan
- See the Machu Pichu
- Ride horses (this can be sort of a recurrent thing)
- At least once, stay in one of those paradisiac hotels in the Maldives where the cabins are built over the water.
- Go to Oktoberfest
- Visit Prince Edward island and reminiscence over one of my favorite books of all times: Anne of Green Gables
- Go to Ispahan in Iran and Petra in Jordan
- Get back in shape and learn how to stay there
- Rent a boat and sail around the Mallorca Islands
- Go to Corcega
- See the Taj Mahal
- Get over my fear of spiders so that I can go to places like the Amazon forest
- Ski in the Alps
- Drive across America (preferably in a convertible)
urgh! this list can go on and on and on and on..... not to mention all of side things you get to see and visit while doing all of the above!
Btw, I just realized almost all of these goals have absolutely nothing to do with either professional or personal achievements... Hmm, I guess at (almost) 30 my priorities are totally whacked.
Fned.
So where's my list? What were the goals I wanted to achieve before reaching this emblematic age?
Funny enough, you would think I'd made up a list when I turned 20 about the things I wanted to have done by the time I turned 30... but actually I never did.
Looking back I realize this is because I wanted my life to turn out as unpredictable as possible and I guess having a "to do list" kindda takes away a little of the unpredictable part. There has always been things that I've wanted to do in my life before I kick the bucket and for the most part that includes places I want to travel to or things I want to see with my own eyes, but I'm not sure I ever consciously put a deadline on by when I should have achieved these things.
For the most part, I'm pretty happy about how these (almost) 30 years have turned out so far. I guess there is still stuff I would have liked to have done much sooner (or at all for that matter) but on the whole, I'm pretty satisfied.
So how about this? here's my List "of things I didn't set out to do, but did, before I turned 30":
- Move to another country
- Learn a new language
- Have a weird roommate
- Visit the Eiffel Tower
- Visit the Vatican and see the Sistine Chapel
- Go to Japan
- Visit the Alhambra
- Travel to South America
- Get married in a Castle in France
- Have a "business meeting" with Tequila Exporters
- Visit the Leaning Tower of Pisa
- Visit Guanajuato
- Introduce my french finacé to my mexican / american family
- See the Mona Lisa
- Get my thesis finished and forget to pick up my degree (which must be rotting in the basement of a SEP building somewhere in Mexico)
- Visit Istanbul, the Blue mosque and the Sainte Sophia
- Drink Guinness pints like there is no tomorrow in a pub in Glasgow
- Live in a co-ed, international dorm and hang out with people from all four corners of the planet.
- Stand atop the Parthenon in Athens on a hot summer day
- Sleep in a nun's convent-turned hostel in Florence
- Camp under the stars in the basque country
- Discover I have long lost family living in Spain and France
- Meet members of the EZLN at a friend's house in Palenque, Chiapas
- Walk in a century old Jewish cemetery in Prague
- Walk in millennial Jerusalem city
- Stand inside the Nobel Prize Awards' ballroom in Stockholm
- Eat Pastel de Choclo
- Watch the sun go down over the Danube river in Budapest
- Eat a "special brownie" and then have to find my way back to the hotel in the middle of a Rave/Gay Parade under the rain in Amsterdam
- Touch the Wailing Wall
- Touch the Saint Sepulcher
- Touch the Dome of the Rock
- Touch the Largest Buddha in Japan's foot in Nara
- Become a vegetarian for a couple of years and realize it's not for me
- Become the owner of an apartment in Paris, France
- Work for a company with questionable ethics
- Work for a guy who made a living out of scamming people
- Work for a bank
- Drive on the right side of a car and on the right side of the road in Ireland
- Hear the Big Ben chime noon
- Swim in the Dead Sea
- Kayak down a river and ride a horse up a mountain in Argentina
- Become a Blogger
As I write this list I realize there are still hundreds of things that I want to do. I'm guessing I wont be checking them off my list before I turn 30 so they're now officially marked in the "to be completed at some point" list.
- Visit the Egyptian pyramids
- Go back to Japan (better yet, move there)
- Visit more of Asia (Thailand, Singapore, Bali, Malaysia, New Zeland, Australia...)
- Go to Cuba
- Learn a new language
- Go to Morocco, Alger and Tunisia
- Visit Portugal
- Stand in the middle of the Red Square in Russia
- Take a sabbatical from work and go teach english in Japan
- See the Machu Pichu
- Ride horses (this can be sort of a recurrent thing)
- At least once, stay in one of those paradisiac hotels in the Maldives where the cabins are built over the water.
- Go to Oktoberfest
- Visit Prince Edward island and reminiscence over one of my favorite books of all times: Anne of Green Gables
- Go to Ispahan in Iran and Petra in Jordan
- Get back in shape and learn how to stay there
- Rent a boat and sail around the Mallorca Islands
- Go to Corcega
- See the Taj Mahal
- Get over my fear of spiders so that I can go to places like the Amazon forest
- Ski in the Alps
- Drive across America (preferably in a convertible)
urgh! this list can go on and on and on and on..... not to mention all of side things you get to see and visit while doing all of the above!
Btw, I just realized almost all of these goals have absolutely nothing to do with either professional or personal achievements... Hmm, I guess at (almost) 30 my priorities are totally whacked.
Fned.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The law on in-laws?
Last night Hubby and I were dining with friends when the subject of the in-laws came up. One of our friends was saying what a hard time she's been having lately dealing with her Mother-in-Law (MIL). Our friend, DIL (Daughter-in-law), and her hubby got married last summer and are expecting their first child in a few months. It seems that lately her MIL has taken to being particularly mean or harsh towards DIL despite the fact that she and Hubby/Son have been together for over 10 years now and will soon be bringing a little grandchild into this world.
The conversation went on for a while about the different situations that have been coming up lately that are slowly but surely tarnishing the relationship between the two women (the fact that DIL seems to prefer taking advice from her own mother rather than from MIL, the fact that the wedding didn't go exactly as MIL had wanted, etc). Suddenly another girl at our table said: "it seems that all girls are destined to have a difficult relationship with their MIL. I have yet to hear of a wife that is on good terms with her MIL". At this point Hubby and I turned to look at each other and I could see we were both thinking the same thing.
I actually do have a good relationship with my MIL, as well as with my FIL. I know that in the beginning it was a bit of a shock for them to digest the fact that their (only) son had chosen a girl with such an obviously different background on every level (language, culture, religion, etc) as their own, but they have always shown me nothing but kindness and attention. I'm not saying all has been rosy, I know there have been times when they didn't approve of my or our decisions as a couple and of course there have also been times when I didn't agree with their point of view on certain subjects, but our relationship has always been a respectful, peaceful and downright friendly one. I believe over the years we have each learned from each other a great deal about tolerance and open mindness when it comes to family members. And for that I am eternally grateful.
But last night's conversation did get me thinking. The fact is that I have heard more horror MIL/DIL stories than fairytales and most involve expat couples (but I take this to be because most of our friends are expats). What I find interesting though is that although there is a very evident variable in the equation (an entire foreign culture no less!) that logically could lead to an unlimited amount of conflicts, the most common problems in the MIL/DIL stories I've heard are often the same and don't have anything to do with a country a nationality or different culture!!
The most common problem I hear about is Jealousy. It doesn't take a scientist to see that this is because there are two women that love the same man in a very different way but with practically the same intensity (meaning with all their heart) and each one has a hard time accepting the fact that the man in question must share his heart between herself and another woman. Some might argue that this shouldn't be the case, that the moment a son chooses to establsih a family of his own, his mother must be able to step back and cut the apron strings. It's the Circle of Life. Others might argue that a mother should always remain an important, even central, part of the family because anything else would be nothing short of ungratefulness. It's the Circle of Life. Either way, when you got partisans for each of these sides involved in the same case, there is bound to be a clash at some point.
The second common problem that comes up rather often is Adaptation. Up to a certain moment a Mother/Son relationship is filled with rituals, traditions, ways of doing things, little things in every day life that nobody pays much attention to but that constitute the bases of their relationship. But suddenly a New Person enters the picture and slowly there begins to be new traditions between the Son and New Person, new rituals, new ways of doing things that set the ground of their budding relationship and constitute the basis of their future family. The problems arise when these new sets of rituals overlap on the pre-existing Mother/Son ones, as is unfortunately often the case. Who is to step back? Who is to relinquish some of their cherished traditions in the name of Peace? If neither side is ready to adapt or compromise, there is bound to be a clash at some point.
Another recurrent thing I hear about is a Love/Attention Overload. Normally, this would be a positive thing because, really, how can anyone feel overloaded with Love? But funny enough, this is very often a tension spot between MIL and DIL. The MIL is suddenly, out of the blue, left with a great amount of Maternal Love and no one to bestow it upon (at least not the one person she most wants to bestow it upon: her Son). So here begins a long list of "line tresspassing" events as I've often heard this situation refered to. Unlimited calling, extravagant gifts, surprise visits, overflow of cooking/ironing/laundering proposals, etc.... The problem is that to a young DIL with no children of her own, this situation is often interpered as MIL not approving of DIL's way of taking care of her son. And when DIL refuses or disaproves of such attentions, MIL takes it as DIL refusing her to care for her own Son, something that I'm sure breaks the heart of any Mother.
These are only a few of the common problems I recognize in the MIL/DIL conflict stories I hear about. However there is always an underlying factor that I believe is quite important in the Resolution (or not) of these conflicts and that is the part that is played by the Son himself!
I asked our friend last night how does the Son react to the growing tension between herself and MIL and she replied that he doesn't take sides and stays out of it for the most part. She herself feels that perhaps it's better for him not to interfere at all because he could easily get caught in the middle and that would certainly make matters worse.
I can't decide if I agree on this or not. I think the part a Son plays in the resolution or not of these conflics is crucial. Stepping back and pretending nothing is the matter doesn't seem to help anyone get any closer to resolving the issue, since the issue revolves around him! But at the same time, what kind of part should he play? I'm not sure either.
I've witnessed examples of both cases: friends where the Son sided with his parents either out of respect for them or fear of hurting their feelings and which led to unfortunate breakups. I've witnessed friends cutting ties with their families (both the Son and the Daughter) because their parents didn't approve of the relationship or because the couple simply couldn't stand the everlasting conflicts between MIL/DIL (or FIL/SIL for that matter).
In all these cases, no one seemed to be happy with the ultimate outcome so severing the ties either way can't be the solution either, right?
In the end, I'm not sure there is a right answer or even a solution to a situation like this. All I can use as a prooven case is my own experience which so far has taught me this: Humans are adaptable. If a couple is strong enough to work as a partnership on all other matters in life, then adding a little patience, a pinch of honesty and a dash of open-mindess into the mix should take care of the rest. No matter what, the keyword for me is: partnership.
What do you think?
Fned.
The conversation went on for a while about the different situations that have been coming up lately that are slowly but surely tarnishing the relationship between the two women (the fact that DIL seems to prefer taking advice from her own mother rather than from MIL, the fact that the wedding didn't go exactly as MIL had wanted, etc). Suddenly another girl at our table said: "it seems that all girls are destined to have a difficult relationship with their MIL. I have yet to hear of a wife that is on good terms with her MIL". At this point Hubby and I turned to look at each other and I could see we were both thinking the same thing.
I actually do have a good relationship with my MIL, as well as with my FIL. I know that in the beginning it was a bit of a shock for them to digest the fact that their (only) son had chosen a girl with such an obviously different background on every level (language, culture, religion, etc) as their own, but they have always shown me nothing but kindness and attention. I'm not saying all has been rosy, I know there have been times when they didn't approve of my or our decisions as a couple and of course there have also been times when I didn't agree with their point of view on certain subjects, but our relationship has always been a respectful, peaceful and downright friendly one. I believe over the years we have each learned from each other a great deal about tolerance and open mindness when it comes to family members. And for that I am eternally grateful.
But last night's conversation did get me thinking. The fact is that I have heard more horror MIL/DIL stories than fairytales and most involve expat couples (but I take this to be because most of our friends are expats). What I find interesting though is that although there is a very evident variable in the equation (an entire foreign culture no less!) that logically could lead to an unlimited amount of conflicts, the most common problems in the MIL/DIL stories I've heard are often the same and don't have anything to do with a country a nationality or different culture!!
The most common problem I hear about is Jealousy. It doesn't take a scientist to see that this is because there are two women that love the same man in a very different way but with practically the same intensity (meaning with all their heart) and each one has a hard time accepting the fact that the man in question must share his heart between herself and another woman. Some might argue that this shouldn't be the case, that the moment a son chooses to establsih a family of his own, his mother must be able to step back and cut the apron strings. It's the Circle of Life. Others might argue that a mother should always remain an important, even central, part of the family because anything else would be nothing short of ungratefulness. It's the Circle of Life. Either way, when you got partisans for each of these sides involved in the same case, there is bound to be a clash at some point.
The second common problem that comes up rather often is Adaptation. Up to a certain moment a Mother/Son relationship is filled with rituals, traditions, ways of doing things, little things in every day life that nobody pays much attention to but that constitute the bases of their relationship. But suddenly a New Person enters the picture and slowly there begins to be new traditions between the Son and New Person, new rituals, new ways of doing things that set the ground of their budding relationship and constitute the basis of their future family. The problems arise when these new sets of rituals overlap on the pre-existing Mother/Son ones, as is unfortunately often the case. Who is to step back? Who is to relinquish some of their cherished traditions in the name of Peace? If neither side is ready to adapt or compromise, there is bound to be a clash at some point.
Another recurrent thing I hear about is a Love/Attention Overload. Normally, this would be a positive thing because, really, how can anyone feel overloaded with Love? But funny enough, this is very often a tension spot between MIL and DIL. The MIL is suddenly, out of the blue, left with a great amount of Maternal Love and no one to bestow it upon (at least not the one person she most wants to bestow it upon: her Son). So here begins a long list of "line tresspassing" events as I've often heard this situation refered to. Unlimited calling, extravagant gifts, surprise visits, overflow of cooking/ironing/laundering proposals, etc.... The problem is that to a young DIL with no children of her own, this situation is often interpered as MIL not approving of DIL's way of taking care of her son. And when DIL refuses or disaproves of such attentions, MIL takes it as DIL refusing her to care for her own Son, something that I'm sure breaks the heart of any Mother.
These are only a few of the common problems I recognize in the MIL/DIL conflict stories I hear about. However there is always an underlying factor that I believe is quite important in the Resolution (or not) of these conflicts and that is the part that is played by the Son himself!
I asked our friend last night how does the Son react to the growing tension between herself and MIL and she replied that he doesn't take sides and stays out of it for the most part. She herself feels that perhaps it's better for him not to interfere at all because he could easily get caught in the middle and that would certainly make matters worse.
I can't decide if I agree on this or not. I think the part a Son plays in the resolution or not of these conflics is crucial. Stepping back and pretending nothing is the matter doesn't seem to help anyone get any closer to resolving the issue, since the issue revolves around him! But at the same time, what kind of part should he play? I'm not sure either.
I've witnessed examples of both cases: friends where the Son sided with his parents either out of respect for them or fear of hurting their feelings and which led to unfortunate breakups. I've witnessed friends cutting ties with their families (both the Son and the Daughter) because their parents didn't approve of the relationship or because the couple simply couldn't stand the everlasting conflicts between MIL/DIL (or FIL/SIL for that matter).
In all these cases, no one seemed to be happy with the ultimate outcome so severing the ties either way can't be the solution either, right?
In the end, I'm not sure there is a right answer or even a solution to a situation like this. All I can use as a prooven case is my own experience which so far has taught me this: Humans are adaptable. If a couple is strong enough to work as a partnership on all other matters in life, then adding a little patience, a pinch of honesty and a dash of open-mindess into the mix should take care of the rest. No matter what, the keyword for me is: partnership.
What do you think?
Fned.
Friday, June 19, 2009
The man with the books - update
Sorry everyone for not getting back to ya sooner (or answering your comments)!! It's been a couple weeks of long hours (both at the office and at Mr L's appartment)!!
I am happy to report that we are slowly getting Mr L's appartment back in shape. We still have a long way to go but last weekend we managed to open a passage way across the living room and made it to one of the windows allowing for the sunlight and fresh air to now be able to come into his home.
We haven't learned much more about his life other than the fact that he's actually 64 years old (and not 80 like I initially thought). We don't really ask him any personal questions while we're working since we don't want to make him feel uncomfortable so I'm not sure how he managed to lead a "normal" life while his place was clearly not in liveable conditions (sorry Jonna and Emily, ;)).
Still, he seems to really appreciate our help and that itself comforts us knowing that we're not doing all of this for nothing. At first we feared that as soon as we turned our backs he would go back to bringing stuff back into his apartment and stocking them in the spaces we had cleared out but that doesn't seem to be the case.
We've found a few "treasures" too, like an original Paris map dating from 1885 in perfect condition and all kinds of cute french objects from the 30s and 40s, so we're thinking that a lot of the stuff belonged to his mother. One of the neighbors who's been living in the building for a long time told us Mr L used to live with his mother before she passed away a few years ago.
Anyway, we're still going strong and our next rendez-vous is set for tomorrow morning so I'll be sure to update soon!
Fned.
I am happy to report that we are slowly getting Mr L's appartment back in shape. We still have a long way to go but last weekend we managed to open a passage way across the living room and made it to one of the windows allowing for the sunlight and fresh air to now be able to come into his home.
We haven't learned much more about his life other than the fact that he's actually 64 years old (and not 80 like I initially thought). We don't really ask him any personal questions while we're working since we don't want to make him feel uncomfortable so I'm not sure how he managed to lead a "normal" life while his place was clearly not in liveable conditions (sorry Jonna and Emily, ;)).
Still, he seems to really appreciate our help and that itself comforts us knowing that we're not doing all of this for nothing. At first we feared that as soon as we turned our backs he would go back to bringing stuff back into his apartment and stocking them in the spaces we had cleared out but that doesn't seem to be the case.
We've found a few "treasures" too, like an original Paris map dating from 1885 in perfect condition and all kinds of cute french objects from the 30s and 40s, so we're thinking that a lot of the stuff belonged to his mother. One of the neighbors who's been living in the building for a long time told us Mr L used to live with his mother before she passed away a few years ago.
Anyway, we're still going strong and our next rendez-vous is set for tomorrow morning so I'll be sure to update soon!
Fned.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
The man with the books
A few years ago, Hubby and I came home one evening to find several people from our building standing on our floor outside our next door neighbor's apartment door. Apparently, the apartment underneath had a water leak and the source of the leak seemed to be coming from our neighbor's water pipes. Problem was, he wouldn't let anyone inside, wouldn't even open his door, and therefore no one could verify if the problem was indeed coming from his place. The pompiers had to be called and after negotiating with our neighbor for half an hour they finally got him to open his door just a sliver of a crack big enough to let one of them in. What the pompier saw (and those who peeked over his shoulder) inside the apartment left him speechless.
It seems our neighbor, who must be in his eighties, never talks to anyone and doesn't seem to have any family nor friends who visit him, had amassed over the course of the years an unimaginable amount of books and other stuff that his place was literally packed to the gills. I wasn't one of those who dared to look inside the apartment while the pompiers were checking the pipes, but those who did later described what they'd seen.
Every single centimeter of the apartment had floor to ceiling piles of books, magazines, leaflets, maps and random stuff (clothes, boxes...). The reason the entrance door had only opened a sliver of a crack wasn't because that's all our neighbor would allow, but because columns of stuff literally blocked the door shut. No sight of the kitchen nor the living room nor the bedrooms not the bathroom was visible or even accessible... all that was able to be seen were door frames literally bricked shut by books that went all the way up until a few inches below the ceiling. The pompiers had to literally climb and crawl over the books in order to reach the bathroom and from there only one of them was actually able to reach the pipes since there wasn't any further space.
Our neighbor, it seemed, had been living exclusively in the only available space left in his apartment: a 4ft x 4ft square in his entrance hall.
After the pompiers left (the water leak having been fixed) our neighbor shut his door in our faces and we seldom saw or heard from him after that.
Until a few weeks ago.
We came home one night from work to find again several of the neighbors gathered outside of our next door neighbor (Mr. L)'s door. Again, a problem involving a possible water leak was the source of the gathering but this time, the family living right underneath Mr L's place was afraid that the weight of Mr L's things would end up caving the floor underneath, crushing them in their sleep.
So they (Mr & Mrs A) and their next door neighbors (Mr & Mrs B) had decided to come up to our floor and try to talk Mr L into letting them help him. By the time we arrived, they'd already gotten Mr L to open his door and to more or less agree that the situation was quite serious (fire risk, leaky water pipes, insalubrious living conditions, risk of floor caving in, etc). They'd manage to get him to accept that he needed help, both physical and psychological (apparently during their conversation with Mr L, which we didn't actually witness, he'd finally broken down and admitted that he'd let things get completely out of control and that he'd even considered suicide at some point). Finally, Mr L had agreed to let them take care of getting his place back into livable conditions and contacting an association that would send someone to talk to him. By the time we arrived, Mr L had already gone back into his apartment and both families were discussing the action plan to take. Mr B asked us if we'd be willing to help as well. We of course accepted.
The most pressing matter was of course getting the apartment back into livable conditions for Mr L. We weren't really sure of how much of the things inside his place were actual objects that held a sentimental value and how much was simply crap that had been accumulated over the years (magazines, brochures.. stuff like that), so we had no idea of how much we were actually going to be able to get rid of. Still, the fact that Mr. L was willing to let us help him was a big step already. Also, we weren't sure of how much of his books would be able to be donated and how much he'd want to keep. In the end we agreed that we would gather as many cardboard boxes as possible and pack them with the books. We'd then ask the tenant's association if we could use the abandoned bomb shelter in our building's basement to stock all the boxes and Mr L could calmly sort through the boxes a little at a time while we found an association willing to help us with donating them or giving them to schools.
The big "cleanup" day finally arrived. We'd never settled on an actual date of when we were going to do it, but last thursday I came home from work a little after 9pm and Mr & Mrs A and Mr & Mrs B as well as Mr L were already hard at work. They'd formed a human chain and were slowly taking things out of the apartment and sorting them in the hallway. Half-filled boxes of books were already starting to fill our hallway and there was a huge trash bin that Mr B had brought to our floor from the building's main trash room. There was also piles of clothes, papers, magazines, kitchen utensils, appliances and hundreds of all kinds of things scattered all over the place. I quickly went home, changed into some jeans and tennis shoes, filled Hubby in unto what was going on (he'd come home earlier before the others had started) and a few minutes later we were out on the hallway helping out.
We worked for 3 hours solid that night. At some point, our other next door neighbors, Mr & Mrs C, also joined in in the efforts. By 10pm we'd cleared enough space that the entrance door was finally able to open correctly. By 11pm two people were now able to fit into the apartment and thus the works advanced faster. By midnight we'd taken down 42 cardboard boxes to the basement, filled a box and three suitcases with clothes that needed to be taken to the cleaners, filled another box with important documents that had to be kept in the apartment and filled three of the buildings four collective trash bins. This amounted to having cleared the entrance hallway in Mr. L's apartment.
Since all of us had to work the next day and some weren't available during the weekend we agreed that we'd continue next week.
I can't explain to you how it felt to be a part of this. The solidarity of the neighbors towards Mr L moved me to a point I had to invent a story about being allergic to wool in order to explain the teary eyes a couple of times while we were working. Everyone was incredibly respectful of the situation, no one made any jokes nor degrading remarks and we all made sure Mr L was asked his opinion before anything was thrown out. I'd felt his apprehension at the beginning of the evening, but as we worked together he slowly began to relax and towards the end he would even ask us if we thought he should throw such and such out.
It's going to take a long time before Mr. L will be able to finally see his kitchen sink again or sleep in his bed. But I'm convinced that we're going to make it.
Fned.
It seems our neighbor, who must be in his eighties, never talks to anyone and doesn't seem to have any family nor friends who visit him, had amassed over the course of the years an unimaginable amount of books and other stuff that his place was literally packed to the gills. I wasn't one of those who dared to look inside the apartment while the pompiers were checking the pipes, but those who did later described what they'd seen.
Every single centimeter of the apartment had floor to ceiling piles of books, magazines, leaflets, maps and random stuff (clothes, boxes...). The reason the entrance door had only opened a sliver of a crack wasn't because that's all our neighbor would allow, but because columns of stuff literally blocked the door shut. No sight of the kitchen nor the living room nor the bedrooms not the bathroom was visible or even accessible... all that was able to be seen were door frames literally bricked shut by books that went all the way up until a few inches below the ceiling. The pompiers had to literally climb and crawl over the books in order to reach the bathroom and from there only one of them was actually able to reach the pipes since there wasn't any further space.
Our neighbor, it seemed, had been living exclusively in the only available space left in his apartment: a 4ft x 4ft square in his entrance hall.
After the pompiers left (the water leak having been fixed) our neighbor shut his door in our faces and we seldom saw or heard from him after that.
Until a few weeks ago.
We came home one night from work to find again several of the neighbors gathered outside of our next door neighbor (Mr. L)'s door. Again, a problem involving a possible water leak was the source of the gathering but this time, the family living right underneath Mr L's place was afraid that the weight of Mr L's things would end up caving the floor underneath, crushing them in their sleep.
So they (Mr & Mrs A) and their next door neighbors (Mr & Mrs B) had decided to come up to our floor and try to talk Mr L into letting them help him. By the time we arrived, they'd already gotten Mr L to open his door and to more or less agree that the situation was quite serious (fire risk, leaky water pipes, insalubrious living conditions, risk of floor caving in, etc). They'd manage to get him to accept that he needed help, both physical and psychological (apparently during their conversation with Mr L, which we didn't actually witness, he'd finally broken down and admitted that he'd let things get completely out of control and that he'd even considered suicide at some point). Finally, Mr L had agreed to let them take care of getting his place back into livable conditions and contacting an association that would send someone to talk to him. By the time we arrived, Mr L had already gone back into his apartment and both families were discussing the action plan to take. Mr B asked us if we'd be willing to help as well. We of course accepted.
The most pressing matter was of course getting the apartment back into livable conditions for Mr L. We weren't really sure of how much of the things inside his place were actual objects that held a sentimental value and how much was simply crap that had been accumulated over the years (magazines, brochures.. stuff like that), so we had no idea of how much we were actually going to be able to get rid of. Still, the fact that Mr. L was willing to let us help him was a big step already. Also, we weren't sure of how much of his books would be able to be donated and how much he'd want to keep. In the end we agreed that we would gather as many cardboard boxes as possible and pack them with the books. We'd then ask the tenant's association if we could use the abandoned bomb shelter in our building's basement to stock all the boxes and Mr L could calmly sort through the boxes a little at a time while we found an association willing to help us with donating them or giving them to schools.
The big "cleanup" day finally arrived. We'd never settled on an actual date of when we were going to do it, but last thursday I came home from work a little after 9pm and Mr & Mrs A and Mr & Mrs B as well as Mr L were already hard at work. They'd formed a human chain and were slowly taking things out of the apartment and sorting them in the hallway. Half-filled boxes of books were already starting to fill our hallway and there was a huge trash bin that Mr B had brought to our floor from the building's main trash room. There was also piles of clothes, papers, magazines, kitchen utensils, appliances and hundreds of all kinds of things scattered all over the place. I quickly went home, changed into some jeans and tennis shoes, filled Hubby in unto what was going on (he'd come home earlier before the others had started) and a few minutes later we were out on the hallway helping out.
We worked for 3 hours solid that night. At some point, our other next door neighbors, Mr & Mrs C, also joined in in the efforts. By 10pm we'd cleared enough space that the entrance door was finally able to open correctly. By 11pm two people were now able to fit into the apartment and thus the works advanced faster. By midnight we'd taken down 42 cardboard boxes to the basement, filled a box and three suitcases with clothes that needed to be taken to the cleaners, filled another box with important documents that had to be kept in the apartment and filled three of the buildings four collective trash bins. This amounted to having cleared the entrance hallway in Mr. L's apartment.
Since all of us had to work the next day and some weren't available during the weekend we agreed that we'd continue next week.
I can't explain to you how it felt to be a part of this. The solidarity of the neighbors towards Mr L moved me to a point I had to invent a story about being allergic to wool in order to explain the teary eyes a couple of times while we were working. Everyone was incredibly respectful of the situation, no one made any jokes nor degrading remarks and we all made sure Mr L was asked his opinion before anything was thrown out. I'd felt his apprehension at the beginning of the evening, but as we worked together he slowly began to relax and towards the end he would even ask us if we thought he should throw such and such out.
It's going to take a long time before Mr. L will be able to finally see his kitchen sink again or sleep in his bed. But I'm convinced that we're going to make it.
Fned.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
A collection of sensations
Welcome to a little compilation of the flavors, views, and sensations explosion that is the Old City in Jerusalem:
Walking in this age old city, going from the Jewish quarters to the Armenian, from the Catholic to the Muslim's... each turn of a corner takes you back centuries in time...
Enjoying the luscious evening sun setting over the city, radiating the Mount of Olives with golden light
Jerusalem, Holliest of Holly Cities
A day trip across the Judea dessert, all the way up to the Massada, and down to the Dead Sea
A dose of reality to make sure we're still in 2009
Jerusalem literally twinkles at night
To see more gorgeous pictures, check out Hubby's Flickr page: GotLight?
Fned.
Walking in this age old city, going from the Jewish quarters to the Armenian, from the Catholic to the Muslim's... each turn of a corner takes you back centuries in time...
Enjoying the luscious evening sun setting over the city, radiating the Mount of Olives with golden light
Jerusalem, Holliest of Holly Cities
A day trip across the Judea dessert, all the way up to the Massada, and down to the Dead Sea
A dose of reality to make sure we're still in 2009
Jerusalem literally twinkles at night
To see more gorgeous pictures, check out Hubby's Flickr page: GotLight?
Fned.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Don't vote and save trees!!!
First up, let me just let just say that pics from Israel are coming… it’s just that Hubby and I haven’t yet been able to properly download and select the best yet, but that’s what wonderful weekends are for right? so be sure to check in soon!!! :D
This post on the other hand is about my beef with the way people vote in France; not in the political sense of the word, but ecologically, or should I say, un-ecologically.
The very first time I was confronted with this issue was when I was still studying at Creteil University back in 2003 and the student body elections came up. When I arrived at the registration booth, I was signed in and then pointed towards a table where 12 different piles of half-page ballots where waiting for me. I must have looked pretty confused because the lady at the booth quickly explained to me that each pile represented a candidate (18 candidates in total) and that I was to select a ballot from each pile, go into the voting booth and only place the ballot of my choice candidate in the envelope she was handing me, throwing the rest of the ballots in the wastebasket, before coming out of the booth and casting my vote.
There must have been 1000 slips of printed ballots for each candidate pile.
Needless to say, I was appalled.
That night I remember coming home to Hubby (back then only Boyfriend) fumes coming out of my head and telling him all about those stupid University student body elections and how somebody should send Greenpeace after their finite-resources-wasting-butts.
And that’s when he told me “but honey, that the way all elections in France are conducted”.
Come again, WHAT????
Since that day, a couple of Presidential elections have gone by, as well as Mairie elections, Deputé elections, Departaments elections, Canton elections, Party elections, Union elections and many others. Each time, we systematically get a piece of paper (sorry, ballot) in the mail for each candidate and the voting process is always the same. The amount of wasted paper is mind boggling…. And I’m not even talking about the amount of publicity brochures and posters that are systematically printed out and distributed all over town for each candidate.
Every time, I raise my voice to the level of my indignation (meaning pretty high up), and every time I get the same puzzled look: “ehm… well, what ozer alternative zoo you suggest mademoiselle?” - Uhm, hellooooooooooo! Do I have to draw it out in pictures?????
Ok, I guess do, but just because I love using Power Point, ok?
In short, this is the way people vote in France:
Now, this on the other hand, is the way people vote in Mexico.
See a difference? I do. I see about a 500% cutback of the amount of wasted paper difference!!!
The first time I told Hubby how moronic I found his country’s voting system he told me this was the only infallible way to avoid any confusion at the moment of counting the votes (I forgot to mention that each candidate’s ballot is printed in boldly different colors), this way nobody ever "accidentally" votes for the wrong candidate.
Thump! (that’s the sound of my jaw dropping to the floor by the way)
Forgive me for being a little harsh here honey, but if someone is dumb enough that ticking a box represents so great a challenge that thousands of trees need to be pointlessly sacrificed instead… I’m not really sure that person should be allowed to vote in the first place. I mean, how hard can reading a name, ticking a box, folding a sheet of paper and slipping it into a voting booth be for crying out loud???
The second argument I often get is that you only take into the voting booth with you the ballots of the candidate you’re going to vote for (hello? What ever happened to voting is confidential? – those ballots are always placed in clear sight of everyone); or else you only grab the ballots of the candidates you still can’t decide who to vote for. Oh right, because, looking at all those different colored slips of paper is definitely going to help you make up your mind more than looking at the names (or party logos) of all the candidates printed on the same ballot!
I just can’t get it people! How can something soooooo unequivocally wrong still continue to be widely accepted? Do you know how many people voted in the 2007 French Presidential elections? Almost 37.4 million people (Wikipedia)! And do you know how many Parties were running in the race? 12!! Oh, and did I mention that Presidential elections (as well as a few other important ones) are actually held in two rounds! Once to select the two top candidates and another to have one elected with more than 50% of the votes.
DO THE MATH!
That's a whole $#!£§& load of printed ballots... for nothing!
So what brought all this on you ask? Well, in case you're not aware of it, the European Deputies’ Elections are being held this weekend and guess what just came in the mail this evening?
I’m sure the Amazon Forest really has a spot in its heart for the French.
Fned.
This post on the other hand is about my beef with the way people vote in France; not in the political sense of the word, but ecologically, or should I say, un-ecologically.
The very first time I was confronted with this issue was when I was still studying at Creteil University back in 2003 and the student body elections came up. When I arrived at the registration booth, I was signed in and then pointed towards a table where 12 different piles of half-page ballots where waiting for me. I must have looked pretty confused because the lady at the booth quickly explained to me that each pile represented a candidate (18 candidates in total) and that I was to select a ballot from each pile, go into the voting booth and only place the ballot of my choice candidate in the envelope she was handing me, throwing the rest of the ballots in the wastebasket, before coming out of the booth and casting my vote.
There must have been 1000 slips of printed ballots for each candidate pile.
Needless to say, I was appalled.
That night I remember coming home to Hubby (back then only Boyfriend) fumes coming out of my head and telling him all about those stupid University student body elections and how somebody should send Greenpeace after their finite-resources-wasting-butts.
And that’s when he told me “but honey, that the way all elections in France are conducted”.
Come again, WHAT????
Since that day, a couple of Presidential elections have gone by, as well as Mairie elections, Deputé elections, Departaments elections, Canton elections, Party elections, Union elections and many others. Each time, we systematically get a piece of paper (sorry, ballot) in the mail for each candidate and the voting process is always the same. The amount of wasted paper is mind boggling…. And I’m not even talking about the amount of publicity brochures and posters that are systematically printed out and distributed all over town for each candidate.
Every time, I raise my voice to the level of my indignation (meaning pretty high up), and every time I get the same puzzled look: “ehm… well, what ozer alternative zoo you suggest mademoiselle?” - Uhm, hellooooooooooo! Do I have to draw it out in pictures?????
Ok, I guess do, but just because I love using Power Point, ok?
In short, this is the way people vote in France:
Now, this on the other hand, is the way people vote in Mexico.
See a difference? I do. I see about a 500% cutback of the amount of wasted paper difference!!!
The first time I told Hubby how moronic I found his country’s voting system he told me this was the only infallible way to avoid any confusion at the moment of counting the votes (I forgot to mention that each candidate’s ballot is printed in boldly different colors), this way nobody ever "accidentally" votes for the wrong candidate.
Thump! (that’s the sound of my jaw dropping to the floor by the way)
Forgive me for being a little harsh here honey, but if someone is dumb enough that ticking a box represents so great a challenge that thousands of trees need to be pointlessly sacrificed instead… I’m not really sure that person should be allowed to vote in the first place. I mean, how hard can reading a name, ticking a box, folding a sheet of paper and slipping it into a voting booth be for crying out loud???
The second argument I often get is that you only take into the voting booth with you the ballots of the candidate you’re going to vote for (hello? What ever happened to voting is confidential? – those ballots are always placed in clear sight of everyone); or else you only grab the ballots of the candidates you still can’t decide who to vote for. Oh right, because, looking at all those different colored slips of paper is definitely going to help you make up your mind more than looking at the names (or party logos) of all the candidates printed on the same ballot!
I just can’t get it people! How can something soooooo unequivocally wrong still continue to be widely accepted? Do you know how many people voted in the 2007 French Presidential elections? Almost 37.4 million people (Wikipedia)! And do you know how many Parties were running in the race? 12!! Oh, and did I mention that Presidential elections (as well as a few other important ones) are actually held in two rounds! Once to select the two top candidates and another to have one elected with more than 50% of the votes.
DO THE MATH!
That's a whole $#!£§& load of printed ballots... for nothing!
So what brought all this on you ask? Well, in case you're not aware of it, the European Deputies’ Elections are being held this weekend and guess what just came in the mail this evening?
I’m sure the Amazon Forest really has a spot in its heart for the French.
Fned.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Dazzling Jerusalem
What can one say of Jerusalem?
Let's put it this way: I don't think in these 5 days we go to see one thenth of what there is to see in the in the Old City, let alone the rest of town.
Although Hubby and I spent the last few days walking nonestop like pilgrims all across town, I don't feel like we got to see the real city. After all, Jerusalem is 4000 years old, so yeah, she showed us her prized jewels, but I don't think she graced us with letting us peek behind the curtain.
If you come here on a spiritual, mystical or religious quest, of course Jerusalem is going to quench your thirst. No matter your religious beliefs, she is not discriminating, she has wonderous gifts waiting for everyone. We saw the Saint Sepulcre and the Tomb of the Virgin Mary on the slopes of the Mount of Olives. We saw the Western Wall and touched the Tomb of David high up on Mount Sion. We saw the Mount of Rock and the Al-Aqsa mosque. We followed the trace of the Via Dolorosa and watched the sun shine its last rays of light on the Wailing Wall on the Sabbath. We visited the Last Supper's room and touched the rock where Jesus was laid to rest after being taken down from the cross. We visited the 4 sepharade synagogues nested low down in the ground and saw the last works being done on the Hurva synagogue. We saw all this and much, much more.
But if you come here fascinated by the mind boggling history of this city, then be prepared to leave it having possibly only grasped the thin outlines. Then again, tourist guides here must study at least two years of history and theology (and sometimes arqueology) in order to be a licensed tour guide -or so we were told-, so that should give you an idea of the impressive heritage of this land.
But how could it be any other way? In the course of 4000 years, Jerusalem changed and molded and shifted both geographically and politically so much, there are often several different explainations to a given pavement rock or a standing wall. Almost all of the important empires ruled here at some point in time, some even making the city the capital of a kingdom that spread all the way to Europe!
Looking down at a timeline given out at the Tower of David museum (the History of Jerusalem) here is a very very rough outline of Jerusalem's history:
-3300 Canaanite Period
-1006 Israel Period (First Temple Period)
-586 Destruction of First Temple - Babylon exile
-538 Persian Period
-515 Return to Zion (Second Temple Period)
-332 Hellenistic Period
-63 Roman Period
70 Destruction of Second Temple
324 Bysantine Period
638 Early Muslim Period
1099 Crusader Period
1260 Mameluke Period
1517 Ottoman Period
1917 British Mandate
1948 State of Israel
Throughout these 4 millenia you cross the names of King David, King Salomon, the Queen of Sheeva, King Herod, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Constantine, Helene, the calife Omar, Gaudefroy de Brouillon, Saladin, Suliman the magnificent, General Allenby, Hertzl... the list goes on and on. And these are only a handful of the A listers!
But I'm not dissapointed. I return to Paris having learned so much in the past few days that I keep having "connect the dots" moments when I realize that all my history lessons at some point had a direct link to this very land I've been standing on these past days.
I've also had the humble realization that the political problems that the country is going through today go so back in time and are engrained in so much of its people's heritage and culture and history and beliefs, that it'd be almost naive to think that it can be resolved so easily. You see, History here is not something that you learn in the books and think of as things that happened long, long ago and therefore can be brushed under the carpet. History here is real and you can touch it and see it and walk over it. And the people that you read about in all those battles and wars, and exiles and conquests...those people are still standing here, several hundreds of generations afterwards. Some may have left but have come back, some have always been here. In either case, everyone knows that this land belongs to them because the blood and sweat and tears of their ancestors built the very walls we touch today.
So thinking that a 4000 year war can be over with just a quick signature on a piece of paper, is not having ever understood the history of Jerusalem in the first place.
Although I sincerely hope I'm wrong.
Fned.
Let's put it this way: I don't think in these 5 days we go to see one thenth of what there is to see in the in the Old City, let alone the rest of town.
Although Hubby and I spent the last few days walking nonestop like pilgrims all across town, I don't feel like we got to see the real city. After all, Jerusalem is 4000 years old, so yeah, she showed us her prized jewels, but I don't think she graced us with letting us peek behind the curtain.
If you come here on a spiritual, mystical or religious quest, of course Jerusalem is going to quench your thirst. No matter your religious beliefs, she is not discriminating, she has wonderous gifts waiting for everyone. We saw the Saint Sepulcre and the Tomb of the Virgin Mary on the slopes of the Mount of Olives. We saw the Western Wall and touched the Tomb of David high up on Mount Sion. We saw the Mount of Rock and the Al-Aqsa mosque. We followed the trace of the Via Dolorosa and watched the sun shine its last rays of light on the Wailing Wall on the Sabbath. We visited the Last Supper's room and touched the rock where Jesus was laid to rest after being taken down from the cross. We visited the 4 sepharade synagogues nested low down in the ground and saw the last works being done on the Hurva synagogue. We saw all this and much, much more.
But if you come here fascinated by the mind boggling history of this city, then be prepared to leave it having possibly only grasped the thin outlines. Then again, tourist guides here must study at least two years of history and theology (and sometimes arqueology) in order to be a licensed tour guide -or so we were told-, so that should give you an idea of the impressive heritage of this land.
But how could it be any other way? In the course of 4000 years, Jerusalem changed and molded and shifted both geographically and politically so much, there are often several different explainations to a given pavement rock or a standing wall. Almost all of the important empires ruled here at some point in time, some even making the city the capital of a kingdom that spread all the way to Europe!
Looking down at a timeline given out at the Tower of David museum (the History of Jerusalem) here is a very very rough outline of Jerusalem's history:
-3300 Canaanite Period
-1006 Israel Period (First Temple Period)
-586 Destruction of First Temple - Babylon exile
-538 Persian Period
-515 Return to Zion (Second Temple Period)
-332 Hellenistic Period
-63 Roman Period
70 Destruction of Second Temple
324 Bysantine Period
638 Early Muslim Period
1099 Crusader Period
1260 Mameluke Period
1517 Ottoman Period
1917 British Mandate
1948 State of Israel
Throughout these 4 millenia you cross the names of King David, King Salomon, the Queen of Sheeva, King Herod, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Constantine, Helene, the calife Omar, Gaudefroy de Brouillon, Saladin, Suliman the magnificent, General Allenby, Hertzl... the list goes on and on. And these are only a handful of the A listers!
But I'm not dissapointed. I return to Paris having learned so much in the past few days that I keep having "connect the dots" moments when I realize that all my history lessons at some point had a direct link to this very land I've been standing on these past days.
I've also had the humble realization that the political problems that the country is going through today go so back in time and are engrained in so much of its people's heritage and culture and history and beliefs, that it'd be almost naive to think that it can be resolved so easily. You see, History here is not something that you learn in the books and think of as things that happened long, long ago and therefore can be brushed under the carpet. History here is real and you can touch it and see it and walk over it. And the people that you read about in all those battles and wars, and exiles and conquests...those people are still standing here, several hundreds of generations afterwards. Some may have left but have come back, some have always been here. In either case, everyone knows that this land belongs to them because the blood and sweat and tears of their ancestors built the very walls we touch today.
So thinking that a 4000 year war can be over with just a quick signature on a piece of paper, is not having ever understood the history of Jerusalem in the first place.
Although I sincerely hope I'm wrong.
Fned.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
An ancient fortress and an even ancient-er Sea
Yesterdaywas a very interesting day.
Since it was the Sabbath and most of the city was closed, Hubby and I decided to go to the Dead Sea. We found a bus company willing to take us there on a tour which included visiting the mythical fortress of Massada.
Needless to say, visiting Massada turned out to be the highlight of the day. If you've never heard of Massada, that's ok, actually neither had we. Massada was actually a roman fortress that King Herod had built way back around 30 a.C. in case Jerusalem was ever attacked and he needed a safe place to protect himself not far from the city which in that time, as everyone knows, was under the Roman Empire's dominion (by the way, I'm getting pretty good at the timeline of history since being in Israel... I'm finally starting to understand all the who's and what's in all these b.C and a.C dates).
Anyway, so Herod built his fortress high up on a pretty flat and pretty large cliffy mountain overlooking the Dead Sea that only had one way up and then had loads and loads of food and water stored there in case he ever needed to use it. Turns out he never did and died a happy and peaceful death in Jerusalem. Then the romans burned the Temple and with this the Jews began a rebellion. Since Jews where being persecuted all over, a very small group crossed the Judeas dessert and took over the Massada from the few soliders that were guarding it and proceeded to install an amazing rebellion base/Jewish community there, equipped with a Synagogue and everything.
Of course the Roman Emperor couln't have this, so he set out an army of 25000 soldiers to track down the rebels (all 976 of them) but when they got to Massada the romans could simply not access the fortress because the only way up was heavily protected and not of easy access for 25000 men (after all, Herodes knew a thing or two about war tactics). Instead the Romans had to camp at the foot of cliffs for 9 months until they could build a ramp that would take them up and allow their army to reach the top. When the ramp was finished they went up, blasted the city gate and then went back down again waiting for the morning to be able to go up and finally take the city.
That night, high up on the Massada, the Jews gathered around the Rabbi and decided that it was better to die a free man than to live a life of slavery and hethery (the speech the Rabbi pronounced that night is sketched in the walls of the Massada visiting center and it's quite moving actually). So each man then proceded to kill his wife and kids and, when only 10 men remained, they threw "lots" to see and which order they would each proceed to kill each other until the very last one killed himself.
When the Romans entered the city the next morning they surely did not expect to find what they did. Ever since this story was discovered (Massada became an arqueology site sometime in the 50's even though the story was actually told by Falvius Joseph, a historian Jew in the 1st century) it has become the symbol of Israel and the army actually takes an oath that literally translates to "Massada will never fall again".
Well, as you can imagine, after that visiting the Dead Sea was a little less.... wow-ing.
A few words about the Dead Sea first:
- DO.NOT.ENTER.THE.DEAD.SEA.IF.YOU.HAVE.CHAPPED.LIPS
- A few orifices of your body sensitive to abrassive elements, like say salt, are going to sting. Be patient, it gets bereable after a while.
Swimming in the Dead Sea would be an experience I would describe as interesting. You shift your bottom a little to back, like if you were going to sit down, and your body simple floats up to the top like a wine bottle cork in water. It's pretty awesome at first, but very soon you realize it's really hard to "swim" in these waters (or do anything else for that matter). All you really can do is just stay there and.... float. Trying to stand up from the floating position is pretty difficult too and after a while you kinda get frustrated.
Also, don't let that salty water enter eyes, nose or mouth under any circumstances (as Hubby sadly discovered).
The good thing is that there are absolutely no fish or any other life form in the water (which is usually what freaks me out of swimming in the ocean) and the waters are cristal clear and calm as a lake (a guess this is also why it's called Dead). But do forget the idea of a sandy bottom. The bottom of this sea is made of huge chunky grany pieces of salt that are so rough and spiky you have to go in wearing sandals or you risk cutting yourself (and guess how much that would sting!) Still, the scenery around the Dead Sea is absolutely breathtaking.
In the end, the Dead Sea is not really a beach to hang out at as any other beach in the world. I guess this it what makes it pretty darn unique and it really was worth it to dip into it for a few hours!
Cheers!
Fned.
Since it was the Sabbath and most of the city was closed, Hubby and I decided to go to the Dead Sea. We found a bus company willing to take us there on a tour which included visiting the mythical fortress of Massada.
Needless to say, visiting Massada turned out to be the highlight of the day. If you've never heard of Massada, that's ok, actually neither had we. Massada was actually a roman fortress that King Herod had built way back around 30 a.C. in case Jerusalem was ever attacked and he needed a safe place to protect himself not far from the city which in that time, as everyone knows, was under the Roman Empire's dominion (by the way, I'm getting pretty good at the timeline of history since being in Israel... I'm finally starting to understand all the who's and what's in all these b.C and a.C dates).
Anyway, so Herod built his fortress high up on a pretty flat and pretty large cliffy mountain overlooking the Dead Sea that only had one way up and then had loads and loads of food and water stored there in case he ever needed to use it. Turns out he never did and died a happy and peaceful death in Jerusalem. Then the romans burned the Temple and with this the Jews began a rebellion. Since Jews where being persecuted all over, a very small group crossed the Judeas dessert and took over the Massada from the few soliders that were guarding it and proceeded to install an amazing rebellion base/Jewish community there, equipped with a Synagogue and everything.
Of course the Roman Emperor couln't have this, so he set out an army of 25000 soldiers to track down the rebels (all 976 of them) but when they got to Massada the romans could simply not access the fortress because the only way up was heavily protected and not of easy access for 25000 men (after all, Herodes knew a thing or two about war tactics). Instead the Romans had to camp at the foot of cliffs for 9 months until they could build a ramp that would take them up and allow their army to reach the top. When the ramp was finished they went up, blasted the city gate and then went back down again waiting for the morning to be able to go up and finally take the city.
That night, high up on the Massada, the Jews gathered around the Rabbi and decided that it was better to die a free man than to live a life of slavery and hethery (the speech the Rabbi pronounced that night is sketched in the walls of the Massada visiting center and it's quite moving actually). So each man then proceded to kill his wife and kids and, when only 10 men remained, they threw "lots" to see and which order they would each proceed to kill each other until the very last one killed himself.
When the Romans entered the city the next morning they surely did not expect to find what they did. Ever since this story was discovered (Massada became an arqueology site sometime in the 50's even though the story was actually told by Falvius Joseph, a historian Jew in the 1st century) it has become the symbol of Israel and the army actually takes an oath that literally translates to "Massada will never fall again".
Well, as you can imagine, after that visiting the Dead Sea was a little less.... wow-ing.
A few words about the Dead Sea first:
- DO.NOT.ENTER.THE.DEAD.SEA.IF.YOU.HAVE.CHAPPED.LIPS
- A few orifices of your body sensitive to abrassive elements, like say salt, are going to sting. Be patient, it gets bereable after a while.
Swimming in the Dead Sea would be an experience I would describe as interesting. You shift your bottom a little to back, like if you were going to sit down, and your body simple floats up to the top like a wine bottle cork in water. It's pretty awesome at first, but very soon you realize it's really hard to "swim" in these waters (or do anything else for that matter). All you really can do is just stay there and.... float. Trying to stand up from the floating position is pretty difficult too and after a while you kinda get frustrated.
Also, don't let that salty water enter eyes, nose or mouth under any circumstances (as Hubby sadly discovered).
The good thing is that there are absolutely no fish or any other life form in the water (which is usually what freaks me out of swimming in the ocean) and the waters are cristal clear and calm as a lake (a guess this is also why it's called Dead). But do forget the idea of a sandy bottom. The bottom of this sea is made of huge chunky grany pieces of salt that are so rough and spiky you have to go in wearing sandals or you risk cutting yourself (and guess how much that would sting!) Still, the scenery around the Dead Sea is absolutely breathtaking.
In the end, the Dead Sea is not really a beach to hang out at as any other beach in the world. I guess this it what makes it pretty darn unique and it really was worth it to dip into it for a few hours!
Cheers!
Fned.
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