Francofile

Resolutions

As always, it does feel a bit different when the year changes, if only by one digit.  A few bloggers have posted New Year's resolutions, which prodded me to think about some of my own.  In 2006, I will:

-challenge my students to engage more deeply with difficult ideas and to apply them to their world

-do more advocating for improved international education in the US--not easy in the current climate, but more important than ever

-try to live day-to-day a little more "a la francaise," in other words, more in the moment  (this also means spending more time in the kitchen preparing "real" food)

-get outdoors year-round for some fresh air and exercise, even in bad weather

-get rid of some of my responsibilities and contacts that are not life-affirming and take on some new ones that are 

-rely more on real people in the blogosphere to get an accurate sense of what is going on in the world, and less on the paid journalists working for the mainstream media, who (with a few exceptions) have performed disappointingly lately 

-Upgrade my HTML skills--so many of you have visually appealing blogs and awesome Photoshop skills and I know I should take mine to the next level

-think about permitting myself the indulgence of a Hermes bag, since Geraldine has kindly convinced me of the soundness of such a long-term investment (on ne vit qu'une fois!)

Happy 2006, everyone!

On not blogging much

Francofile tries to regularly post fairly cogent and topical posts related to France, but this one is probably going to end up being a loosey-goosey and rambly post that has nothing to do with France.  Chalk it up to the demands of work, getting ready for the holidays, and perhaps to laziness.   At one point I was almost as prolific as the indefatigable Voix or the ultra-disciplined Elisabeth.   I was nearly as up-to-date on current events as the unsurpassed Superfrenchie.  I have been doing more lurking than posting lately, but hope to regain my blogging mojo soon.  Or I could try to be like Amerloque, who does not post all that often, but when he does, it's always a truly worthwhile read. So what are the worthy endeavors that have interfered with my blogging?  Francaise de Coeur would have an excellent excuse not to post.  She just had a baby girl (Tessa Rose) but still manages to update her blog.  The always-intriguing French-language blog Cafe-mode is regularly updated despite the fact that the resident blogueuse has gone back to school to study fashion.  During this blog downtime, I have not written a monograph, nor have I honed abs of steel, dazzled friends and family with gourmet cuisine, or created thoughtful hand-made Christmas gifts.  My excuse is, well--ahem--I don't have one.   Sometimes you  just realize that your to-do list has grown and your available time has shrunk and that you need a new modem, your car needs an oil change, your cats need rabies and distemper shots, along with a hundred other small things that all add up.  And sometimes you agree to take on something that takes 800% more time than you ever thought it would.  Unless you are really good at restoring furniture, for example, don't go on E-Bay and buy an 80-year-old hoosier cabinet that spent a few decades in someone's basement.  In any case, the to-do list is getting whittled down and this little blogging slump is about to come to an end. 

"Frog-Blogging"

(Note: I use the term "frog" above playfully, and with all the affection and admiration one could imagine.)

I may cut back a bit on posting this fall as I become more busy with work and training for another marathon.  In any case, I cannot imagine not continuing to regularly read and write posts and comments. 

I have learned a lot from blogging, and still have much to learn.  My HTML skills still leave much to be desired.  There are practices, terms, etiquette and folkways that I am still discovering.

I've been at this blogging business for about three months now.  I started because even though I knew very little about blogs, there were some pent-up things I wanted to say in response to what I was reading and hearing in the Anglo-Saxon culture at large regarding France.  A lot of what was being said and written about France in the press and the media seemed to be based on ignorance and sometimes even bigotry.  Being an obsessed francophile (and with good reason) I was tired of silently enduring what has amounted to a smear campaign.  Once in the blogosphere, I branched out a bit from there, but France seems to be the one common denominator for the incoming and outgoing traffic on my blog.

The greatest benefit of blogging has been reading the reflections of so many interesting, witty, articulate people who generously spend time documenting their thoughts and lives and making it public.  I treasure my blogroll and there are several others that I need to add to it.  And even though I have to live in the midwestern US to ply my trade while my heart remains in France, I enjoy experiencing vicariously the lives of those who are presently living in my "deuxieme patrie." 

And how about you?  When did you start blogging and why?

Quebec, I Hardly Know You

Not having spent much time in Quebec, I am intrigued by the mystery it represents.  The impressions I have cobbled together through news reports, films, novels, short visits, and various encounters with Quebecois may be relatively distorted.  I look forward to a short trip to Quebec this summer, during which the province might surrender a few more of its secrets. 

The impression of Quebec that transpires through novels by Marie-Claire Blais, Anne Hebert, and others leads me to believe that it's not so different from the upper Midwest of the US where I grew up.  Snowbound winters, alcoholism, and the pervasive influence of Catholic Church are all familiar themes.  However, my favorite films from Quebec (especially those of Denys Arcand) remind me that Quebec fiercely differentiates itself from its neighbor to the south. 

Another contradiction in my blurry image is that Quebec seems in some ways more French than France, but in other ways wants to maintain a separate identity.   You sometimes hear Quebecers talk about the stereotype of the "Francais chiant," but it is not clear to me which aspects of the French they deplore.  It can't be enjoyable to hear a French speaker from the hexagon mock the "accent quebecois." 

But how can one not admire French speakers in Quebec and border areas for reclaiming the prestige of the French language despite years of economic discrimination, ridicule and political attacks.  Quebec went to the absolute brink of secession in the referendum of 1996, showing the world how serious they were about maintaining their francophone identity.  Nearly ten years have elapsed without another referendum, and news reports indicate that both the English and French-speaking communities there have more deeply embraced bilingualism as a solution to their longstanding cultural breach. 

Adding yet another layer of complexity to the question of identity is the intensely multicultural nature of the population.  This aspect of Quebec makes it a dynamic and cosmopolitan place, rather than the backwater that people may sometimes imagine.

One of the most promising young teachers I ever worked with, Lise, hailed from the university and paper mill town of Trois-Rivieres.  She impressed me with her synthesis of European and North American savoir-faire, seeming to embody the best qualities of both cultures.  Like a European, she was stylish, cultured, and curious about the world.  Her wool coats and scarves were chic enough to make one actually welcome bitterly cold winter weather.  At the same time, Lise was gregarious, unpretentious and adaptable, seemingly unbound by the constraints of French culture.

I look forward to sitting on a cool terrace in Quebec next month, sampling a local monastery cheese with a real baguette.  I will delight in the musical lilt of the French language as it is spoken there, and enjoy for a few days the lifestyle that these people of mostly Breton stock have honed on the North American continent since the 17th century. 

France and Algeria: Random Observations

France and Algeria are more than just neighbors on opposite sides of the Mediterranean.  The colonial relationship, begun in the 19th century, ended with a bitter war of independence in the 1950's.   Most of the colonialists, called "pieds noirs," resettled in France and Algeria set about reclaiming its own identity.   Some of the buildings in Algiers are built in the Parisian style, but most other signs of the colonial occupier have been erased.  Among France's Muslim population, most are of Algerian ancestry. 

Recent news reports from France about the Islamic head scarf controversy in the public schools and the fearful reaction to accepting Turkey into the EU show that France is struggling with itself and its cultural diversity.

My thoughts on the relationship between France and Algeria are influenced by a mosaic of random glimpses and chance encounters.  Staying at a one-star hotel in Nice as a student in the early eighties, I  heard the pied-noir proprietress scolding an apparently North African cleaning woman: "Ça, c'est du travail arab! Il faut frotter, frotter, frotter les carreaux!"  (That is "Arab work!" You must scrub, scrub, scrub the tiles!)  This jarring attitude, I later learned, was widespread.

During the same trip a young man, who appeared to be North African, followed be down the street and offered me forty francs.  I understood that despite my unprovocative (by Western standards) attire and my quick pace, he imagined that I was a prostitute.  It was hard not to let this incident mar my image of Arab culture, as it was to be repeated with other women I knew.   

Later that year I was fortunate to be exposed to "real" Algerian culture. Before Algerian civil unrest had begun, a French pied-noir friend, who grew up in France but whose family had remained friendly with a family in Algiers, organized a trip to Algeria for his wife, my roommate and me.  My first impression of the capital was that there were men lounging about everywhere but few women were visible in the streets.  It was odd that so many men seemed to lack any professional activity.  This hinted at an economy that was not working well. 

We were warmly welcomed by the family my friend knew.  After greeting us, the women retreated to the kitchen while the men engaged us in conversation.  The female members of the household emerged only to serve mint tea, a delightful and ubiquitous social ritual in that part of the world.  It was an honor to be treated with such graciousness, but my female traveling companions and I felt guilty for enjoying a status apparently granted only to male Algerians.

Traveling to southern Algeria, we were hosted by another contact of my friend's, Chooch, who was working on an oil field project near Tamenrasset.  This affable young man bubbled with enthusiasm about his culture, its richness, its hospitality, and its contributions to humanity.  After all, Arab scholars kept knowledge recorded by the Classical Greeks and Romans from being lost during the Dark Ages in Europe, and contributed much to modern medicine.  Chooch seemed to represent the future of the oil-rich country and its potential as a global player.

The next leg of the trip was a "randonnée" in the Hoggar desert, under the guidance of Rassi, one of the proud, nomadic Touareg people, who provided us with camels, food, and knowledge of water sources.  The landscape in the Hoggar is the most ethereally beautiful I have ever seen.  Its changing surface reveals stark rock spires, chimneys, and boulders that not even Salvador Dali could have imagined.  This excursion revealed the ethnic diversity within Algeria--an overwhelmingly, but by no means exclusively Muslim country.

More recently, I worked in the US with an outstanding young colleague whose parents were born in Algeria, but who grew up in a northern industrial city in France.  Samia has since returned to Europe and now works in Brussels.  Samia was asked by an American student when France did not opt to join the coalition to invade Iraq "Aren't you ashamed to be French?"  With aplomb, she quickly responded, "No, I'm proud to be French."  Samia seemed equally proud to be a French citizen, a European, and a Muslim who is the daughter of Algerian immigrants.  For Samia, these identities were woven into one seamless garment.  She seems emblematic of her generation in her energy, optimism, and vision for the future.

France is a melting pot.  As in the US, many French citizens trace their lineage to other nations.  A significant number of immigrants coming from one part of the world, bringing different religious practices to a secularized France still guided by the humanistic spirit of the Enlightenment, is bound to produce tensions.  The potential for radical Islamization is a worry to be addressed in France by Muslims and non-Muslims alike.  In a free and open society, Muslim boys cannot be raised to believe that women who do not wear the veil are prostitutes deserving of their contempt.  For this reason I understand the French government's insistence on a policy of laicité (secularism) in the schools, despite its discriminatory overtones. 

We can hope that with a good deal of effort and a spirit of compromise on all sides, the prosperous futures envisioned by Chooch in North Africa and Samia in Europe will be realized.