The Mother of All Visits

Yes, it’s the much-awaited blog on my mother’s much-awaited visit.

But first, a quick vignette: don’t you just hate it when you and your spouse are minding your own business, walking along the Seine from the Orsay to the Louvre around 10:30PM, attempting to take advantage of the once-annual-open-til-midnight museum festival, when a band of approximately a dozen drunken young Frenchmen, dressed as various superheroes, go loudly toddling by you, and you end up debating Middle Eastern politics (you in French, he in English) with a quite rotund and overstuffed Captain America? Yeah, me too!

Anyway, now back to The Mother of All Visits.

You may have read in the papers in the past day or two that this year’s hurricane season is expected to be intense. You’ve got that right. This year’s first hurricane has unexpectedly already come ashore…right here in Paris. Hurricane Bobi, that is…

Now, a year after our wedding, it is probably safe for Sara and me to reveal that in the lead-up to the wedding, we would sometimes refer to our mothers as Hurricanes Katrina and Rita. No disrespect was meant—we were just making the point that they’re both true forces of nature, and that you stand in their way at your own risk.

So, how do you host a hurricane? Well, as Sara has already detailed in the blog, Char and Henry’s visit was more of a tempest in a teapot, stress-free, and a good time was had by all.

But, could lightning strike twice? (OK, I’ll drop the meteorological crap…) Could there be a low-impact visit from our high-powered parentals?

Long story short, yes. My mom’s visit was made a bit more, or less, complicated by the fact that she has visited each of the three previous years (1992/3, 1994/5, and 1998/9) that I’ve lived here. So, gone was the pressure to squeeze in visits to all the “biggie” destinations like the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre—Mom’s already seen them.

But gone also was the E-Z trip planning that comes with welcoming a first-time visitor. After three years of living in Paris, I have what past visitors lovingly refer to as “The Death March” down to a science, so that about 75% of Paris’ must-see sights get “hit” during a leisurely full-day forced jaunt across the City of Lights. A second day might involve hitting sites that would be the pieces de resistance in any other city, but which pass as also-rans here in Paris. All along we’d be discovering delicious French street food, a tasty treat at any price, but downright perfect given its low cost, strong euro or not. But my mom’s seen all this stuff, and tasted all these goodies, at least 2-3 times each.

The good news is that my mom had low-key needs at a time that Sara and I wanted to take it easy. It was a perfect fit—we slept in most days, turned in early, split our meals between restaurants and Sara’s ever-more-excellent cooking, and of course shopped, shopped, shopped.

We visited zero museums but five markets (artists’ markets at Bastille and Montparnasse, a temporary flea market in the 14th and the permanent one by Clignancourt, plus Sara’s and my beloved food market on the rue Mouffetard). We didn’t stand in line at any tourist attractions, but we did stand in several lines that had a cash register at the other end. We tackled the not-yet-in-Fodor’s Sara-and-Josh engagement tour (“here’s where I got down on one knee, here’s the hotel with the better-than-a-postcard view where we stayed on the engagement trip,” etc.) And we ended the eight-day trip having had more ice creams (three) than pre-10AM wakeup calls (zero), which is all you can really ask, frankly. After all, could we really have expected anything but an enjoyable visit when my mom’s accommodations were at…the Hotel Sunny?

Hail to Le Chef

Hello everyone,

I’m back, and I’m blogging. Pardon the delay, we’re in full visitor and travel season…

LET'S GET...PRESIDENTIAL
By popular (or unpopular, depending on what you think of requestor NN) demand, I’m going to share some thoughts about the recent French presidential election. You may have already read something about it. I’ve been surprised at how much coverage the election received—it was the top story on washingtonpost.com virtually all day the day of the election.

MEET THE BIGGIES
The two primary candidates in the election, center left Segolene Royal and center right candidate Nicolas Sarkozy, represented a sea change from past presidential contenders. First, they are a generation younger than most previous candidates. But second, they had a reasonable chance of winning the election despite the fact they had never previously run for President. This is unprecedented in France, where candidates often run several time before finally winning. (Francois Mitterrand ran in 1965 and 1974 before winning in 1981 and 1988, and Jacques Chirac ran in 1981 and 1988 before winning in 1995 and 2002). The latter practice clearly flies in the face of the flavor-of-the-month, eating-our-young system in the US, where once you lose one election, you’re tainted goods forever. Admittedly, Nixon ran, lost, then reappeared for a later victory (maybe that’s the exception that proves the rule…) Can you imagine Walter Mondale, Robert Dole, or John Kerry running three times before finally winning?!?

As you know, in the end, despite the presence of charismatic centrist Francois Bayrou, the two “intended” candidates progressed to the second round, and in the end center-right candidate Nicolas Sarkozy won by a fairly large 53% to 47% victory. Why did Royal lose, why did Sarkozy win, and what does this mean for France?

ROYAL, WITH PLEASE!
Royal would seem to have many points in her favor. First, she’s beautiful, in a country where that matters. Second, she was a surprise, challenge candidate in an election cycle that seemed to favor change. (As a side note, two points that would seem to have disqualified her to be a candidate in the US--the fact that she’s not married to her longtime companion and the father of her children, and the fact that he just happens to be the head of the political party she represented in the election—seem to be perceived as irrelevant in France. Amazingly, as the election results were announced on live TV, Royal’s significant other sat in a TV studio and commented on his de facto wife’s loss, unable to comfort her, and without the media commenting on the absurdity of the situation.) However, in the end, Royal seems to have peaked too early, and to have relied too heavily on the novelty factor without backing it up with proven competence and a clear message. The most damning statistic is this—a post-election poll showed that while two-thirds of Sarkozy’s voters voted for him (as opposed to against Royal), fully two-thirds of Royal’s voters were voting against Sarkozy (as opposed to for Royal).

Two key questions on this front remain to be resolved: First, what is the fate of the Socialist party, which has lost three straight Presidential elections, including one loss in the first round and a wide margin of loss this time around? And second, have we seen the last of Segolene Royal? As indicated above, history would indicate she would run again, but her predecessor as Socialist candidate, Lionel Jospin, only ran twice before throwing in the towel, and my personal sense is that in this instant-gratification, mass-media age, France will no longer has the patience or the stomach to watch someone lose twice before winning.

SARKO, FASCO?
So, what about the victorious candidate, Nicolas Sarkozy? The son of Hungarian immigrants, he has the classic psychological pairing of an inferiority complex and a massive ego. He didn’t attend the same prestigious schools as most politicians, and he’s famously short in stature. On the flip side, he’s made no secret of the fact that he’s always wanted to be President of France. Napoleon, call your office…

I think the perception of lifelong presidential wannabes is based almost entirely on whether said individual belongs to your political party. For Democrats like me, Bill Clinton’s childhood interest in being president was charming, his photo with JFK inspirational, and his eventual victory a happy ending (no pun intended). Yet, when an politician we dislike has such a lofty goal, we often perceive it as hubris, or ice-cold career calculation. This same dual perception seems to repeat itself here in France.

Sarkozy is a man with a mission, a clear vision he won’t easily be dissuaded from pursuing. I admit my own hypocrisy of perception on this front—I see GW’s unwavering self-faith frightening, but I find newly-elected DC Mayor Adrian Fenty’s single-minded pursuit of his platform impressive.

Everyone agrees that Sarkozy is a gifted politician. In an election that, as stated above, was focused on a theme of change, he successfully spun himself as the best proponent of innovation. This despite the fact that his opponent was the change-personified, first-ever serious female presidential candidate, the fact that his own party has controlled the presidency and the National Assembly for years, and the fact that he himself served as a minister in this same government until a month before the election.

THIRD WAY, THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM?!?
Sarkozy is France’s Bill Clinton or Tony Blair, just fifteen years later—a young, charismatic go-getter in search of the “Third Way.” He claims to want to maintain France’s significant social advances while also capitalizing (pun intended) on the benefits of a more liberal economic approach. Many in France doubt his true allegiance to the social gains, which will be at the core of any changes that occur in France’s immediate political future. France is in an impossible situation—there is a near jihadist-level obsession with the protection of these social benefits, yet an increasingly large national agreement that reform of social programs is essential if France is to escape from decades of malaise and experience the same renaissance as many of its European brethren.

Is Sarkozy the man for this job? He can certainly claim a mandate—he won by approximately two million votes despite facing a groundbreaking and charismatic opponent, an extraordinarily weak endorsement from his predecessor and fellow political party member Jacques Chirac, a request by the head of the Far Right party to his voters (likely second-round Sarkozy voters) to abstain from voting in the second round, and a statement from kingmaker centrist Francois Bayrou that although he wouldn’t endorse a second-round candidate, he would not vote for Sarkozy).

If Sarkozy is to succeed at reforming France, he will have to do so in a “Nixon-in-China” going against expectations mode. If he fails, he will face what the French refer to as a “third round” of the election—in the streets, with protests and riots that could make the disturbances of two summers’ back look minor in comparison.

MISCELLANEOUS

* Turnout in both rounds of France’s election was approximately 85%. Can you imagine? Even American Idol doesn’t get that kind of voter turnout number, let alone for a presidential election.

* Funny Newspaper Correction, from the International Herald Tribune: “Because of an editing error, Nicolas Sarkozy was misquoted in some Monday editions. In his victory speech Sunday night after the French presidential election, he said he loved France as one loves a dear being. There was no reference to a dear master.”

Ice Cubes and Turkish Toilets

I was standing in line for the bathrooms at the Luxemburg Gardens with my parents today after a lovely picnic and after hearing another comment about the lack of ice in France, I said, “That’s it, I’m blogging about you!”

My mother of course laughed and said, “Wow Henry, she’s really threatening us now!” The threat is especially empty for my father who is convinced that the “computer room” in their home is nothing more than a room without a TV worth watching, but still, I feel I need to follow through on my “threat”.

Let me first be entirely clear—it is a real treat to have two weeks to spend in Paris with my parents. I am lucky to have parents who I honestly consider friends and we are having a good time. My parents are also rolling with a lot of new things and doing so with a smile, or at least a nod.

This trip also continues a reasonably long history of the Plutas traveling together. As a family, we’ve left our mark on Cancun, Ecuador, Hutalco, the American West, Florida, Washington DC, plus many other US states. I am quite sure the locals are still talking about those crazy Plutas and I have no doubt that the French (and Josh for that matter) will also be talking about this “invasion” long after May 10th.

Now secondly, let me also be entirely clear about the fact that Hoosiers in Paris is just inherently a risky proposition. I knew that Paris was different from Washington, but I’ve been reminded often how REALLY different Paris is from Chesterton.

Here are just a few things that have been brought to our attention as being “different” in Paris. [and for non-midwesterners, “different” is often code for “not what I prefer”]
1. Beer, water and Coke are served chilled, but never iced
2. Our fridge is not big enough to even have a freezer with an ice cube tray
3. Coffee is strong and served in cups that “are tiny”
4. Bathrooms are rumored to have a “Turkish Toilet” in the men’s room, which seems to be causing an extreme reaction from my father (despite the fact that we haven’t actually seen one yet)
5. There are a lot of people here, all of whom speak French
6. The cars here are really, really tiny
7. Josh and I walk an extreme amount here
8. There is not enough ice in France (yes, we really talk that much about ice)

I will readily admit that their observations are right, but we are nonetheless attempting a crash course in “French Culture”

The first few days were a maze of introductions to customs, signs, and language differences. I think we can all agree through that steak-frites are a bridge across cultures and that for one shining moment, the Plutas loved France because of their ability to find a decent steak and a tasty drink for under ten euros.

History has been a saving grace. There aren’t many places on earth where you can still see a house built in 1407 within walking distance of a piece of the city wall that dates back to 1200, and for some reason, this kind of “extreme history” resonates with my parents.

My parents have also helped me learn even more about the history of France, through a few tours we have taken together, and because of the pre-trip research they did on the French Revolution. It has been really fun to share these moments of history with my mom and dad, even if we did have to find a McDonalds afterwards so we could talk about the history lessons over an iced cold coke.

We’ve also settled in a bit. They have a wonderful little studio apartment right off of my favorite market street. They too are staring to enjoy a daily coffee, even if it’s a café crème and not an espresso. I think they are coming to at least understand part of our Parisian life, even if two weeks of it will be as much as they care to enjoy.

Also in a sign of the apocalypse, my father has even started to learn French. In a constant quest for the perfect sandwich, he insisted on having Josh teach him the word for “olive oil”. It’s the only French word he knows, and he uses it a lot more often than you could possibly imagine. I can still hear Josh teaching him, in mixed French and English, to just say “Wheel dough leave.”

Tomorrow we head to Normandy, and my French teacher’s family will be taking a couple of days out of their lives to show us around (I had asked my French teacher for some ideas on what to visit in her home province in Normandy, and instead she drafted her whole family to host and facilitate our visit--so much for mean French people, huh?). I can only wonder if they actually know what is in store for them—they thought the last group of Americans visiting Normandy (in 1944) was a tough bunch. I’m sure it will be OK, though, as long as we can sit for at least a couple of hours with an iced cold beverage.

sPg