Thursday, 30 September 2010
France 8: Paris Marathon
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
France 7: First petite soirée
To say that I was the model guest would be like saying marmite is nice. True for some people but false for others. But this rosbif committed, through bulbous frogs eyes, the cardinal sin: I didn't do "la bise" (going around and kissing everyone). I also though that it was called the bees when chatting to a fellow Brit thinking the french must of been something like "faire l'abeille". Thank god I didn't try the line "Wanna make some honey?" I'm sure I would of been slapped rather than the blessed with a kiss.
So while I was there I tried some Fisher beer. Something I've been meaning to do since I worked in a french cafe when I was 14, so that first sip was going to be a seminal moment for me. Trying to explain that in French was a nightmare. They probably thought I was trying to explain that I was the boy on the front of the bottle or that I once was addicted to the stuff when I was 14 or that I once stole some from a cafe in France. Obviously none of which are true.
So my main aim with these posts is to put down what I find strange or different from Britain. The reason is that if one stays for long enough everything becomes normal and obviously being the good patriotic Brit I am I wouldn't want that happening.
So people didn't really get drunk. Ok it was a school night but the three Brits were the last to leave and I was definitely the most drunk. Now before you call the AA on my behalf, I was so sober I was able to cycle home very safely at just after midnight. Whereas back in blighty the mood would more likely of been "oh why not, let's get drunk tonight" and people would of been vomiting in the ash trays, sleeping with a torrent of dribble coming out of their mouths, telling everyone that could hear that they "really love everyone here, you are all just so lovely, did you know that? People should tell each other how much they love each other every single day, it should be a rule....." Or some other silly guff ad nauseam.
Anyway a very civilised affair after all.
Until next time.
Friday, 17 September 2010
France 6: cycling on my velo
All the rues in Lyon are perpendicular. I don't mean that they are each perpendicular to each other, that would mean a new dimension for each road and I don't even think Prof. Stephen Hawking can imagine hundreds of dimensions.
So as I'm riding it's all right angle, left angle, right angle, wrong angle, capitalist angle, socialist angle, fascist angle, communist angle, droit angle, gauche angle, correct angle, incorrect angle, write angle, read angle, kept and left angle.
The hardest part about cycling in France is that everything is on the wrong side, as in not the right side. Interestingly this is more of a problem with one way streets than two way streets. (Of about the roughly 10 different streets I go down to work, 6 are one way, two are two way and two are pied-way.) The reason is that on a two way road it is blindingly obvious if I am on the wrong side of the road. Whereas on a one-way road it is different. For two reasons: firstly people are not expecting a bike on their left (ever seen a bumper sticker in Britain "Think Bike when turning right!" ? Equivalently "Pansez velo quand tournez gauche" not quite the same). Secondly bikes are allowed to go against the flow of traffic down a one way road, as long as its in a 30kmh zone (I think - famous last words). And a bike on bike head on collision is a very rare creature but spectacular if seen in it's natural urban habital. Sadly the creature is very dangourus to human, can be fatal when in contact and serious mental scaring for those who seen one at it's full desruction. Obviously no WWF protection for this rare creature.
I still haven't quite figured out the lights. In London I knew to the milisecond when the lights were going to change. I knew when I could jump them. I could read the other driver's minds. Obviously now when I read them it's all in French. All this just to shave those life changing nanoseconds of the journey. But no mastery flowing my way quite yet.
Toodlepip
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
France 5 part b: Working hours
I'll then work from 7 30 until 12 whereupon we pop down the road to the canteen (I'll write about that some time in the future- it's worth it). I'll have an hour break for lunch. I'll then work again from 13h until 16h 30.
I might then pop to the gym on the way home, getting in a good long session and still be home by 19h.
It's not all long hours and hard work. On Wednesday I only have half a day to comply with the 35 hour week. You win some, you loose some.
Well what I did loose at is holidays. This is in fact desperately serious. In France, on a CDI (contract of indeterminant length) one has holidays based on the amount you worked the previous year. So you might think I don't get any until janurary. It's worse, the start of their "holiday year" is May. So I have no holidays until May, then for the following year I will have only 2/3 of holiday.
I'll do another post soon about holidays it's all a bit complicated.
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France 5: Working hours
It was passed in the belief that it would raise employment because if people worked less companies would have to employ more people. This might seem logical and it will generate a few extra jobs in that way. But what it fails to take into account is that there isn't a set amount of work to be done by the work-force (the exact name for the theorem evades me). Secondly there are overheads for every new job. So 7 people working 40 hours is a lot cheaper that 8 people working 35 hours even though the total man hours is that same. If you feel you can add to the argument please feel free to comment on the post.
There is of course the argument that working less will increase productivity and I do believe that productivity in France is higher than Britain. So that might create more activity and therefore more jobs.
Now what I am about to tell you is not for the feint hearted. I want you to be sitting down for this. Brace yourself. Women please loosen your corsets, men your neck ties. Women have your fans ready and men some smelling salts on ones person.
So my day is structured thus: I get up at around 6 20, get dressed and pop down to the boulangier. I will usually pick up a warm baguette and some sort of patesury. I then return home, eat some more small lunch, cup-o-t. I me brush my teeth [sic], reflexibly. Pop on my fixie*
*Fixie is a single speed(only one gear) courier bike were the rotation of the pedals is fixed to the rotation of the back wheel.
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Thursday, 9 September 2010
France 4: French lessons
When you first learn a language you learn a word or phrase's meaning in your native tongue. So the synaptic pathway is froid->cold->concept of low temperature in one's mind. So when you hear, speak, read or write you need to be simultaneously translating into one's native tongue and understanding.
Eventually the synaptic pathways become just froid->concept de moin temp. And that is how you become fluent. I assume ability at foreign languages is a function of how readily these routes grow and how easily you disassociate the coupling of concepts from their associated English.
So currently tomorrow (Friday) is my last day of my first week of French lessons. It has all been one on one and all in French. Along with moving to my new flat and furnishing it has been a tiring week. But I have found my French has really improved. Obviously that's because we focus on what I am not very good at.
For example I am much worse at listening than anything else. Going back to synapses again, the combinations of sounds are not triggering a response in my brain where a combination of letters on a page would. So my teacher got me to listen to a piece about buying wine upon which she asked some questions which I duly answered. I understood some of it, mostly hearing some nouns I understand but details completely escaped me. So when she asked me questions, I stupidly answered from my own knowledge about wine, inferencing what I thought they must of said. Shouldn't do that again. It made me look as though I understood it all which couldn't be further from the truth.
It might seem strange and counterproductive that I second guessed the content but if you are in an exam with a passage on a subject you know but with french you don't you are not going to sacrifice your grade on the alter of academic altruism. You're going to give it a damm good stab.
I had no face to save, no other hoop-jumping-through-ticking-the-right-boxes other students to beat, no brownie points to gain. So I performed a Mea Culpa. Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa! The look on her face when I started sprouting Latin would of been great if I had the guts or actually knew any. So I finally put a stop to the façard and explained, in French as always, that I hadn't the foggists what was just said or words to that affect.
There was a huge, tough and rather over cooked piece of pride meat to masticate and swallow when, sentence by inaudible (to me anyway) sentence, we listened and there would be a bunch of sounds that would mean nothing to me. It's because of the liasion. So instead of saying je suis (I am) it sounds like shwee. Or je peux : shpeur, tu es: te, c'est à côté de: ce ta côted etc ad nausium. It's not like in English were the better one talks the better in-ta-na-tion one has. Who else remembers:
Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Peppers,
If Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Peppers where's the Peck of Picked Peppers Peter Piper Picked?
In France it seems being as smooth as possible is the fait complete. Ergo impossible for me. But every time I come across something difficult in French I just shout (obviously quietly if there are other around) to my self "ENGLISH IS MUCH MUCH WORSE TO LEARN".
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Wednesday, 8 September 2010
France 3: Work and French kissing
SEPTEN is one of the 6 centres in the nuclear engineering division (DIN) at EDF. They range in size from about 500 for SEPTEN up to one being over a thousand. There are around 5 000 people in DIN in total. 130 000 in EDF. There are two centres in Lyon, two in Paris, one in Marsille and one in Tour.
Each centre had a different basis. SEPTEN in involved with design stage and safety calculations. The others are:
• New build
• Maintenance of the current fleet
• Material and chemical studies
• Non-nuclear parts of the plant (turbines, water cooling, transmission, etc)
• Decommissioning
In SEPTEN I am working in the "Combastable Nuclear" section, which is nuclear fuel.
The first thing I must say is that they are all very welcoming even if there is a language barrier. My boss is this wonderful guy called Serge. He has all the mannerisms you would expect from a French man. But he speaks almost no English which is important for me.
In my section there are about 8 of us who are all in our 20s. There is one italian on an internship and one full time spanish guy (interesting to hear a spanish accent speak french). The rest are all french. Annoyingly they all speak much more english than I do french (not for much longer though!).
In my office there is just two of us. Vincent and I. Vincent is a really nice guy. 25 and from Lyon, he has been a real help is so many thing. Only problem: he went to the international school, so no problem with English.
Now kissing. I was just not prepared. On my second day a woman comes in to our office walks round to my desk and I sort of smile at her (I had been introduced to her by my boss the day before). Then I realise that she is advancing on me, looking over my right shoulder. I almost turnaround to she what she is looking at. Luckily just in time to avert disaster I understand what going on and kiss one cheek.
Brilliant one down. But how many to go? My heart started to race. Palms started to sweat. Was it just one or two? Or four as I had seen in some places? What if I went for another and she didn't? I've had that done many time back home and felt like a prized idiot. Was I going to be known as the english chap who is awkward when kissing?
As that the French kiss all the time they are therefore very good at it. As I doing the first kiss I seemed to sense there was going to be another, but as our faces were passing past each other for the second one I then knew the upcoming kiss was going to be the last. Amazing. Note to self: make sure I wear my eau de toilette every single day.
The next day, Friday, I got in early, as I plan to do. Getting in early is a double edged sword, especially for me. Something I was able to firgure out on the first day. It is good for a few reasons: I work better earlier in the day. The office is quite. And I don't have to say hello to anyone. That might sound very unsociable of me but in Britain one would just walk into the office, wave and say good morning as you walk past an open door. But in France you'd go in and shake hand or kiss. But I simply don't know the protocol. How far to you go? Every one on your route? What if work in the furthest office from the lift or the one next to it? So being the first in completely misses this potential social minefield.
Now for the bad side. I got in at about 7 30 and for about 30 mins no one else came into the office. But as people started coming I had someone coming to our office to shake or kiss about every 10 mins until 9 30. And this was a Friday where a lot of people take of. (I'll explain that in some future post). In fear what it will be like mid week.
So an advantage of coming in last would be that you get all the hellos out of the way in one go.
I couldn't imagine what an open plan office would be like.
Currently I'm having French lessons for a week which I will write about soon.
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