Letter from France

The migrant crisis hits home.

2017-01-10T11:58:00.002+01:00

It was a typical Monday afternoon. I was waiting to catch my train after teaching English at the local management school. I registered the group of young black men gathered at the end of the platform, talking loudly in a foreign tongue, but decided they were just local kids. They seemed well dressed and didn't appear lost. In addition the city has a large migrant population; it is not unusual to hear different languages being spoken. When the train pulled in to the station, I made sure to not sit too close. There are lots of gangs in Grenoble particularly among immigrant communities. Growing up in London has taught me to be discrete, better safe than sorry.

Then came the announcement, the train was going to be late. They were waiting for police officers to come and remove some non -fare paying travellers. As a group of ticket inspectors gathered on the platform, it quickly became apparent that the group of young people were the target. I began to wonder if things were about to get ugly. The group seemed unconcerned and chatted away as if nothing was going on. Typical, the arrogance of them, I thought.

Finally the police arrived. They boarded the train and asked the young men for identity papers. The boys didn't seem to understand, but I heard the word "Calais" a number of times. They were peacefully taken off the train on to the platform. More police arrived with tear gas spray at the ready.

I felt powerless as the penny dropped and I realised these were migrants, probably heading north. Suddenly my frustration at the delay faded as I realised a global drama was playing out before my eyes. Up until now it had appeared distant, on television and news websites. Now here it was on my doorstep.

I approached the ticket inspector who told me they were Sudanese. I offered my help as a translator, if they spoke English but was told I wasn't necessary. As the train pulled away I saw the young boys being frisked, a resigned look in their eyes as though they had done this many times before. Brexit, Trump, the rise of Marine Le Pen, my moral compass has been thrown off. I once believed I could change the world now I just seem to stand by and watch it get more and more unfair. It seems that even if you try to help you get hauled into court, like some French people in the South. They have been accused of aiding illegal immigrants, by offering a warm place to sleep and some food. Surely this is basic human decency, we are expected to stand by and watch them suffer. We have come along way from the pogroms of the Nazis but we seem to have forgotten the lessons of history. I hope that next time I am able to do more and stand up and be counted, rather than stand aside and watch.

A sporting deviation

2016-03-15T16:33:00.002+01:00

I am not the world's greatest athlete. I never really enjoyed playing football on frozen pitches at school, watching as the school superstar dribbled the ball past me. So it was somewhat of a surprise to find myself roped into becoming a rugby coach for the local children's rugby team. My son had decided he wanted to play rugby, and as I was going to have to take him every week, I thought I might as well make myself useful. I attended a training course and learnt to talk the talk, and walk the walk. I have always preferred watching rugby to watching football so it was not too hard.

One result of my volunteering is that I am mercilessly ribbed every time there is an international tournament. The French people, like their symbol the cockerel, like to crow loudly. During these sessions I remain non-committal and wait to see what happens at the actual game. Unfortunately the premature English team exit from the last World cup was a significant low point. I am not completely innocent though as my son and I sport English jerseys whenever possible. I also play on my Irish and Welsh ancestry to ensure that I have three chances of supporting the winning side. So I was most pleased this weekend when Scotland beat the French team, even I cannot claim any Scottish blood. The Scottish victory was particularly faced with the over confidence of the French before the game. Now even if the French beat England this weekend, and I hope they do not, England has won the six nations. However the French will do all they can to win, since beating England would be compensation for them, and for some would even be better than winning the six nations.

One thing I find interesting in all this is the nationalities of the different coaches. The best performing sides have Southern hemisphere coaches, while Italy and France both have French coaches. I am not proud of this; England's dismal performance in the World cup was under an English coach. Is there, as the All Black's coach suggested, something wrong in Northern hemisphere rugby?

Personally I find the French style of aggressive contact rugby, concentrating on big, heavy players problematic. During the last World cup both Australia and New Zealand combined speed and strength. Both these nations play a lot of touch rugby, to develop speed and agility. Touch rugby is not popular in France and my local team scoffs at any suggestion we play it. Watching a big New Zealand forward break through the French defence and score a try seemed to suggest that working on speed and agility is just as important as impact.

There is another problem however and that is the popularity of foreign players in national leagues. Racing Metro recently recruited Dan Carter, the All Blacks fly half star, with an annual salary of £1.3 million. Dan Carter, at 34, is not a young man and this move is clearly financial, the problem is that he takes the place that could be used by a young French player. This situation is not rare in France. Some years ago Grenoble rugby club shook things up, firing French players and bringing in Southern hemisphere players. This means that young players do not get the opportunity to play high-level rugby. This in turn damages the International side who has to choose from a smaller pool of experienced players, and keeps bringing out players like Mathieu Bastareaud who isn't getting any younger. In the Southern hemisphere league sides play national players providing a strong talent base for their international sides. There is little opportunity or financial incentive for European players to play in the Southern hemisphere and push out local players.

In my humble opinion European rugby needs to take a leaf out of the Southern hemispheres book. Train all-rounders who can combine speed, power and fitness, and give priority to local players coming up through rugby schools.

President Hollande attacked at the Salon d'Agriculture

2016-03-01T13:54:00.000+01:00

Poor old President Hollande he cannot seem to do anything right. This week he visited the 'Salon d'Agriculture'. Traditionally the Presidential visit has big symbolic implications showing support for the powerful farming lobby. President Chirac was a master at wooing the farmers. He spent hours comfortably shaking dirt encrusted hands, admiring the livestock and seemed completely at ease with this world away from the ornate Elysée Palace. President Sarkozy was much less comfortable when his turn came. His visits were rapid, and awkward photo-shoots with livestock did not help his already low popularity.
However President Hollande has managed to outdo his predecessor. He was greeted by booing farmers, some of whom shouted out 'resign'. He looked small, nervous and out of his element as his ministers and bodyguards tried to push through the angry crowds. The farmers, like many in France today, are not happy. The supermarket chains are using their monopoly power to reduce the price they pay for farm produce, and thereby squeezing farmers profit margins. At the same time government taxes on employers remain high, as for every other sector in the French economy. Farms, in this country so proud of its "terroir", are going out of business and some farmers have even committed suicide. The government, and more particularly President Hollande, are being accused of doing nothing.
To be fair there is a law going through Parliament concerning pricing in supermarkets, but we do not know the details and nobody is convinced it will change things. President Hollande has also promised to reduce government taxes on employers, but here again we lack details. There is, however, another problem that governments, and not just in France, can do little about. This is the problem of consumer demand, consumers want cheap food. If French people really supported their farmers they would be prepared to pay that bit extra for good quality, local food. In reality everybody wants a good deal and we do not really care if it comes from Spain and is sprayed with pesticides, as long as the price is right. If government legislates to put food prices up they will commit political suicide.
What can poor old President Holland do?

Britexit

2016-02-22T20:28:00.001+01:00

I was very disappointed to discover that if one has lived outside the UK for more than fifteen years you are ineligible to vote in the referendum on British exit of the European Union. February was my fifteenth anniversary of living in France.
What would I vote, if given the opportunity? Probably against Britain leaving Europe. I have personally benefited from the European Union and would feel like a hypocrite voting to leave. As a student I had the opportunity to study in Europe under the Erasmus program. Later when my studies were over, I Interrailed around Europe passing national borders without difficulty. Then I met a French woman and moved to France in 2001. I was able to quickly and, fairly, easily start work and set up home. All this thanks to British membership (with numerous opt outs) of the European Union. How could I vote for Britain to leave Europe and deny the same opportunities to future generations?
In my opinion too much emphasis has been put on the economic consequences of European Union at the expense of the cultural and social benefits, but then again I have never really understood Economics. I think that the European Union is a brave experiment. Of course it is never going to be easy getting diverse cultures and languages to live together. But surely trying to live and work together is better than the centuries of war that raged in Europe before.
So I am disappointed that I can not vote in this referendum, but I console myself with the feeling that the presence of Britain in Europe is so important that the British people will vote to stay. And anyway nothing will change for me personally. A few years ago I took French nationality, careful to ensure I could also keep my British nationality. I also registered my childrens' births in the UK, giving them the chance to choose their nationality later. I did this partly to enable me to vote in French national elections, but also partly because I always suspected that Britain might try to leave the European Union. At least with dual nationality I might avoid any bureaucratic problems of being a foreign national living in France.

Language changes

2016-02-11T16:22:00.002+01:00

There is a lot of press at the moment about plans to change the spelling of certain words, and the dropping of the circumflex accent. Or as I have always politically incorrectly called them the 'chapeau chinoise', because of its resemblance to a Chinese coolies hat. I must admit to being a very lazy writer in French, so any simplification of the system is good for me. However the debate has given rise to some reflections about French education.
I have two kids in the French state system and I have also had some professional experience of how things work. My first eye opener was working for a technical school that trained young people destined for a career in logistics. Beyond the fact that the students had no interest in learning English, there was the problem of marking. Every term the different subject teachers had a meeting to discuss the students’ marks. Naturally in line with France's democratic principals two student representatives were present at this meeting. Students are routinely marked out of twenty in France and I had mistakenly given zero to a student I had never even met. My colleagues were most shocked by this. It seems that in the French system you can never give zero. I don't remember what mark was eventually given.
Later I was asked to examine candidates for the oral part of the Baccalaureate exam. I had finished with my list of candidates when a colleague asked me to help her with a candidate. The candidate in question was a giant, Malian who when asked to present the article he had read, as per exam procedure, was able to say 'basketball' and little else in English. I tried to extract more English from him but quickly realised we weren't going to get anywhere. The candidate was thanked and left. Now we had to decide on a mark. I felt that given his limited oral comprehension and expression we couldn't give more than four or even five, and that was generous. My colleague, an American who had been living in France for a number of years and clearly knew how things work, didn't agree. She felt that if we gave him less than nine he would be discouraged.
After these two experiences I have developed a rule of thumb. Anything above twelve out of twenty is good and students are generally happy, ten or lower is a disaster and should be used with caution. We never give less than five and twenty is impossible.
Now at this point you may think I am exaggerating but read on. Fast-forward fifteen years and my daughter has started college. She is bilingual having been exposed to English since she was a baby. Recently she had to make a weather report. We coached her a little at home but there was really no point. Then she came home with her mark eighteen point two five out of twenty. Now this is an excellent mark and any French parent would be over the moon. But I was curious about the one point seven five that she had lost. Where did this come from? She was word perfect at home and would have made a respectable weather girl for the BBC. Well the explanation was simple, she seemed nervous when she stood up in front of her twenty five adolescent class mates to present the weather. Of course how silly of me to assume that an English lesson was designed to teach and test your English level. A could give more examples of strange marking of my daughter's work; like the point lost for naming Ireland as a country when it is in fact the Republic of Ireland, this was in English and not Geography. However I do not wish to appear a pushy parent.
Now this brings me back to simplifying the French language and the storm that this has created. In my opinion the French Education system needs deeper reform than just making the spelling of some words easier. They need to stop measuring students on a scale out of twenty. Most students are more worried about getting a good mark than actually learning, understanding or even, God forbid, enjoying the subject. All that changing the spelling will do is lower the overall level, and improve some student’s mark without tackling the real problem of reforming the system.

New Year, new life?

2016-01-04T17:17:00.000+01:00

Life can be surprising at times. As every New Year I have been having a crisis about my life. I have taught English for 14 years now. I started teaching by default, as it was an easy way to get a job and start making money. In recent years I have become tired of endlessly trying to convince the French that they can learn English. The French know they need to speak English for professional reasons, and for travel; but the global dominance of the language of their historic enemies obliges them to resist any attempts to teach it. So every year, and sometimes more often, I anguish over what else I could do. Inevitably I find a reason why I can not do anything but teach.
Then on the second day of the New Year I opened my letter box and unexpectedly found a card from my local mason. This is not unusual. French people traditionally send New Year cards rather than Christmas cards; a fact I exploit as an excuse not to send any Christmas cards. Often tradesmen such as electricians or plumbers send cards to their clients. What was surprising about the card I received from our mason was the quote over the photograph of a bridge.

"La volonté est un pont qui permet d'aller d'un monde imaginaire vers le monde réel"

Roughly translated: "Willpower is the bridge from the imaginary to the real world."
Sometimes I find motivational quotes pretentious but this one struck a cord with my mood. It was also curious as I had not imagined my down to earth mason being someone who went in for this type of profound sayings. Which just goes to show you can never judge people.
Anyway the quote spoke to me and helped shake me out of my holiday stupor. I already have one ambitious target for this year to train for, and run a 47km Trail race in the mountains. Now I just need to pin down how I can make a living away from English teaching. I enjoy writing, reading, spending time in the mountains or in my garden, but none of these seem a realistic way to make a living. A good friend has been pushing me for a number of years to learn a programming language so maybe this is the way to go. Whatever happens I will be pinning the mason's New Year card up in my office as a source of inspiration to do something I enjoy.

Regional elections

2015-12-14T15:44:00.000+01:00

We have just had the regional elections. I must admit to being a little confused about the different layers of French government. I am an elected representative (unpaid) in the town council. Last year we voted in elections for our departmental representatives. This year it is for the region ones, then in a few years time it will be the national elections again. Not forgetting of course the European elections. So many representatives with different powers that are not always easy to understand.
Anyway these latest elections were seen as a test of popularity of the ruling central government and our President. Many people are angered by his governments economic failings, while he tries to reinvent himself as a world leader in the fight against terrorism and climate change. The vote has two rounds as the number of parties is whittled down. This time the first round saw a surge in support for the Front National (FN), France's far right. There was a sudden effervescence by the other parties and the second round saw the FN kicked back into third place. I remember the same thing some years ago during a Presidential race.
In my little village, traditionally left leaning, the FN led after the first round of voting to the shock and dismay of many. Then to a collective sigh of relief the left wing won the second round. But the worm is still there at the core of the apple. Questions need to be asked as to why people are turning away from the mainstream parties to more radical alternatives. We breath a sigh of relief again but the rot is still there growing slowly and gaining strength at each new test.
Personally as a citizen I feel ignored and forgotten by the powers that be. While as an elected town councillor I feel powerless to make any meaningful change or have the voice of my neighbours heard. I hope never to vote for the extremes but I do feel more and more compelled not to participate. However we are told this plays in to the hands of the extremes. So I am stuck between a rock and a hard place, if I vote for one of the mainstream parties nothing will change, but if I do not vote the extremists will win. I wonder how many feel as I do?

A busy weekend of volunteering

2015-10-06T20:50:00.001+02:00

The concept of "benevolate" is very strong here in France. It translate as volunteering. Many French people undertake some sort of "benevolate", giving their time for free to train kids in a sports club or run an "association" (club).
This weekend there were two big events in my local area. The first was a "vide grenier" (car boot sale) to raise funds for the local primary school. The "Parents d'eleve", litterally "pupils' parents", organise fundraising events throughout the year. The autumn "vide grenier" is one of these, I wrote about it in 2012. This year I helped out with setting up the tables before and clearing up after.
Unfortunately the event was scheduled at the same time as the annual "Virade de l'espoir", thereby stretching the volunteer resources. The "Virade de l'espoir" is an annual, national event that raises money for Cystic fibrosis, or "Mucoviscidose" as it is called in France. In our village the event takes place next to a local lake. There is the obligatory "buvette" (tea stand), there was also one of these at the "Vide grenier", where drinks and snacks can be purchased. Crepes spread with Nutella are an essential ingredient of any self respecting "buvette". Then there are various stands offering prizes, a tombola, a book stall, a trampoline, and finally artistic displays by various dance and sport associations. My particular favourite is the country dancing club. The members are usually very serious and complain about not being able to dance in optimal conditions. Apparently a wooden floor is essential to any self respecting country dancer. The music often leaves me perplexed as a large part is more celtic than country, and the dance moves seem the same whatever the music. Finally no display is complete without a few 'yeehas' randomly thrown in. But it is all in a good cause and everyone present gives their time for free.
Since school went back in September (the rentree) every weekend has some type of event or activity that calls for volunteers.

Trail running

2015-09-14T13:43:00.001+02:00

In recent years running seems to have exploded in popularity. More and more of my fellow villagers drag themselves out of bed at the weekend to pound around our local reservoir. Last year my wife decided to set a target for her approaching fortieth. She set her mind on a marathon. I tried to train with her but a torn meniscus in my knee gave me a good excuse to sit it out. Despite not being an enthusiastic runner, my wife stuck to her training plan and in early 2015 completed the Geneva marathon. I was there at the start and the atmosphere of anticipation and adrenaline was infectious. Once all the runners had left I felt empty and very lonely. Then at the finish I felt jealous and envious of all the successful finishers.

A few months later these feelings returned as we volunteered to help out with an Ultra Trail near our home in the Belledonne. The Echappe Belle is not for the faint hearted, 144km and over 10, 000 metres of altitude during three days of trail running. The race has the reputation of being very demanding. We were at the finish line and saw the first and last runners come in. The general atmosphere of good humour and the sense of achievement on the faces of the runners motivated me even more. I decided that I would try and train for a race.

I picked trail running because of my love of the mountains. Our family walks a lot, often from our own doorstep. We have the advantage; some might say inconvenience, of living in the mountains. So going off road and uphill is pretty much obligatory. I had heard that trail running is less violent for the articulations than road running. We are also very luck to have a trail station in the vicinity.

The concept of Trail station was launched a few years ago in the Chartreuse by the company Raidlight, maker of trail equipment. Each station offers running routes of varying lengths and distances for trail runners. So great training opportunities.

So with the lazy over indulgent summer ended and the kids headed back to school I have started running. Just small runs of 6 - 10 kms, three times a week for the moment but I will intensify things from October. And my goal? Well I am undecided but the Echappe belle offers a shorter 47km run in a years time so who knows. In any case I will be charting my trials and tribulations through my blog Time to trail train.

Changing career

2015-01-20T13:44:00.000+01:00

For some time now I have been disenchanted with teaching English. When I arrived in France some thirteen years ago, I hoped to find some work in tourism. I naively believed that my four years experience managing a small museum in London would make me a good candidate. Unfortunately I came up against the "diploma" barrier. In France if you don't have a qualification in a particular field it is very difficult to work in that field. I was advised to go back to school and study for a BTS in tourism. However I had neither the money, time, nor inclination to return to study. So I took the easy option and used my TEFL certificate to start teaching English to adults. Teaching is an easy option as there is plenty of work and it is relatively well paid. Despite this teaching has become a chore for me. Dealing with French people's cultural hang ups about having to learn English bores me. I would be a rich man if I had a euro for every new students who has started their first lesson with,
"Je suis nul en anglais" (I'm rubbish at English)
before going on to speak passably well, or telling me,
"J'ai un accent épouvantable en anglais" (I have a terrible accent)
before speaking with a slight accent that would be a miracle to eliminate. Then they sneer at any French public figure with the courage to speak in English. No it's time for me to move on and leave the battle to younger more motivated teachers.
So the question is what to do? I have far too many interests. A couple of years ago I undertook a 10 day course in "Permaculture", and since then have tried to promote it in my local community. At the same time I was invited to sit on the local council. I also found myself volunteering my kids local primary school; accompanying outings and giving short English lessons. All this required time which was difficult while teaching. Over the years various clients have asked me to translate documents for them so I decided to try my hand as a translator. This frees me to indulge in my other activities.
Then out of the blue the headmaster of the local primary school asked if I would be willing to accompany the school trip to the sea, "La classe de mer". I would be going as one of the four parent volunteers who accompany the trip. I also learnt that there would be four "BAFA animateurs". BAFA animateurs are people who have passed a certificate to look after children in after school clubs and during school holidays. The experience of accompanying the school trip was very positive and I enjoyed it so much that it set me to thinking about working with children.
I decided to complete the BAFA training. The training involves a first 7 day initial training course, followed by a 14 day work experience, and finally a 7 day final training course. On my initial course I was the oldest participant, even counting the trainers. During my evaluation I was asked why I was there. Very often the BAFA is used by young people for a summer job to earn pocket money. I patiently explained, as I have had to many times since, that it was to have a qualification which enabled me to work with kids. The BAFA is a quick and cheap qualification to have.
My 14 day work experience was undertaken with my local "centre des vacances", run by the town hall for the village kids. We organised daytime activites for children aged between 3 and 17, in three age groupings. I was lucky enough to work across all age groups. Again this was a positive expereince even if some of my young colleagues were lacking in motivation and dynamism.
My final BAFA course was a little different, the participants were older and I chose a specialisation in nature. Everything went well and I obtained my diploma. Over Christmas and the new year I found a job running a "Kids club" in an holiday centre in the Alps not far from my house. With two other colleagues I was looking after kids while their parents skied. It was a good opportunity to test my new skills but also to meet and discuss with people working in tourism.
Now I am wondering what is my next step. I have applied to some summer camps but committing to two months away from home is difficult. The idea of being a nature guide is appealing but I lack a biology or ecology degree which most employers would demand. What is certain is I really do not want to go back to teaching. Changing career in France is not easy but if you are determined enough it is possible.

Is France going down the drain?

2014-12-13T14:58:00.000+01:00

I once had an idea for a book titled, "How France made me a capitalist?". Recent news stories on the BBC; "France's Macron faces baptism of fire over economy reforms" and "French 'mess' threatens real civil strife" seem to suggest that I should write that book.

The present socialist government is trying to push through reforms that they hope will reboot our failing economy. Unfortunately as always when a French government tries to introduce a reform self-interested groups are protesting to protect their "acquis". These "acquis" are work benefits, such as early retirement for TGV train drivers, and cheap or even free electricity for EDF staff.

The main objection to the current reform is that it will allow extended Sunday opening for shops. Today shops can open five Sundays a year with the permission of the "Prefect" in each region. The reform proposes to raise this number to twelve. The opponents believe Sunday is sacred and should be spent with families, ignoring the fact that many people work on Sundays already, and few people spend their Sundays in church or with their families. Sunday opening would create jobs and perhaps raise consumption. Personally I think the opponents are missing the real problem with the reform seven days of extra shopping is not going to save the French economy. This reform is minor tinkering with a system that needs a major overhaul.

One aspect of this major overhaul was in the reform but has been pushed aside faced with opposition of Pharmacists. It is the liberalisation of Pharmacies, unlike in the United Kingdom; supermarkets in France cannot sell over-the-counter medicine. The monopoly is held by Pharmacists who often overprice these medicines, knowing that there is no competition and they are likely to be reimbursed by customer’s health insurance. If this reform was passed over-the-counter medicines would become cheaper and this would save the indebted health service money. Pharmacists are not the only monopoly and the reform seeks to open up other professions. However it faces strong opposition from the members of all these professions.

I have been in France 13 years now and as my children grow up I really wonder whether it is a good idea to stay. Many young educated people I meet are planning to go overseas after their studies, I wonder if they will come back, and what the France that they come back to will be like. The most frightening aspect of France's present situation is that the only politician with the courage to make major changes is Marine Le Pen of the Front National. I foresee a bleak economic future for France and a FN presidency if someone does not step up to the plate and pass reforms that will make them deeply unpopular but might just save France from itself.

Banque alimentaire and charity at Christmas time.

2014-12-01T11:52:00.003+01:00

This weekend was the annual national collection for the "banque alimentaire". The food bank collects food and toiletries which are then distributed to people in financial difficulty. In my village the local councillors and CCAS (Centre communal d'action sociale) volunteers collect donations. The collection takes place at the end of November in local supermarkets.
It was my first time, and I was interested to see how people reacted to be asked for charity in a time of crisis. So I donned my orange vest and took my place at the entrance handing out leaflets with a smile and a "Bonjour". As the collection is an annual event and well publicised people weren't surprised to see us and almost everybody donated something. Nobody challenged our right to be there and solidarity still seems to exist, at least in my corner of the world. However a number of people asked where the food was distributed, and were satisfied when informed that it was given to people in the immediate locality. Suggesting charity still begins at home.
We filled supermarket trollies with the cans of food, pasta, rice, biscuits, etc. that people donated. Once these were filled they were ferried to a garage that is used as a food store. By the end of the weekend we had filled a garage lined with shelves, and my colleagues told me that we had collected more than the previous year. This food is then distributed to people who request help over the following year.
This generosity is all the more impressive when you know that the annual "Restos du coeur" winter campaign has started. The "Restos du coeur" was created by the legendary French comedian "Coluche". It aims to provide assistance to homeless and poor people during the hard winter months. So we are asked to donate to them. Then this weekend is the annual "Téléthon" event which raises money to fund research into, and treatment for Neuromuscular diseases. So we will be expected to donate to them as well. At the same time my two kids are selling their school and sports club calendars. Any day now the "Pompiers" will ring my door bell to sell their calendar. All these demands at Christmas time, it is a wonder there is any money left over for presents.
Mind you I would rather donate money than fight over discounted Televisions on Black Friday, something which has happily not yet arrived in France where solidarity is more important than consumption.

Language

2014-11-26T21:12:00.003+01:00

I scrolled through my past articles to see if I had already railed against this phenomenon and was surprised to see I had not. After 13 years it still gets my goat, it seems that just as I am feeling integrated, the French have a knack of putting me back in my place.
Today we had a meeting to organise our village fete in March. The discussion turned to buying new decoration and the possibility of getting some "winflags". If like me you don't know what this is google it. Anyway one of my colleagues complained that the word was Anglo- Saxon and asked for its French translation. He commented that he is always battling against these Anglicisms. So in French its an "oriflamme", so now you know. Another colleague commented that she found the French term more poetic. To which I responded that this underlined the difference between English and French. The French like poetic, literary terms, while the English prefer vocabulary that is punchy and has more of a buzz about it.
The same week I noticed an article in our village magazine commenting on a recent concert. An Australian friend of ours is the lead singer. His group sing a mix of rock and jazz classics in both French and English. What disappointed me in the article was the line which said, ".. the accent of the Australian singer when he sang in French couldn't help but make the spectators smile."
Then my seven-year old comes home telling me that his teacher wants to meet us. Apparently he had a bad mark in "dictée", a pillar of the French education system. The teacher dictates a word and the children have to write it. It seems that because we speak English at home he made mistakes in his dictation. The fact that it is the first bad mark he has had in dictation does not seem to be an issue. Now I have to contain my anger and avoid making the observation that good English is going to be more useful in a global economy than good French, as that will only make his situation worse. Arrogant Englishman!
It may seem that I am being too sensitive, but I have had to put up with this "BS" for thirteen years. The sensitivity of certain sections of French society about the domination of English. During her nursery school we were warned about speaking two languages to our daughter, and confusing her! While working as a English trainer I devised a course entitled "Anglais pour telephone et E-mail", only to be told by a colleague that I should have used the term "mel". While I accept that it is frustrating for the French to see the language of their historic enemy dominating the world economy, I think they need to get over it as the Scandinavians, Chinese, Indians, Germans, etc have. If not they could find themselves trailing far behind in an ever decreasing Francophonie. As far more I am going to keep speaking English to my kids in the knowledge that being bi-lingual will serve them better than just speaking one language.

La sobriété heureuse

2014-11-17T13:51:00.005+01:00

During my two year absence from this blog I made a discovery, Permaculture. I have always appreciated nature and enjoyed growing plants. So when we were looking to buy I insisted on having a garden. For the last ten years I have grown some of our vegetables. In addition, I have chickens who provide us with eggs, and a few years ago I started beekeeping. It was during my internet searches for tips that I stumbled on Permaculture.

The more I read the more I became hooked. I had been brought up to use classic gardening methods but here was method that seemed more respectful of the earth. Permaculture believes in working with the natural system and not against it. Rather than tilling the land, the objective is to provide a permanent green cover that protects the soil and micro- organisms, mimicking natural environments. Chemical agents, particular those derived from petrochemicals are proscribed and even unnecessary. Permaculture seeks to create a natural, productive balance. After reading a range of books and blogs, I decided to take the plunge and follow a Permaculture course. I spent ten days at a former silk farm near Montauban learning about Permaculture. The participants were an eclectic mix; two middle aged men who were embarking on an eco- community project, an SNCF ticket salesman, a women who worked for the Ministry of Agriculture, some students and a number of people seeking to change their professional orientation. Our trainers were an Englishman who had brought Permaculture to France, and lived in a caravan in Brittany, and a surveyor who walked around barefoot, and only ate uncooked fruit and vegetables. However we all shared a common goal, that of living in a better world. The course was interesting and I returned home fired up with enthusiasm. I built a Herb spiral in my garden and then helped my neighbour do the same. I also constructed a Mandala garden, and experimented with no- dig garden beds.

Herb spiral

Mandala garden

At the same time, I continued my reading and discovered Pierre Rabhi. He has been practicing agro- ecology for many years and promotes the idea of simple living as an alternative to our consumerist society. His ideas are well presented in his film "Au Nom de la Terre" (unfortunately only available in French). Watching the media with all the problems of extremism, environmental degradation, financial crisis, health problems, etc, the ideas of Pierre Rabhi speak to me and have led me to change my way of living. My hope is that others will follow the example given by Pierre Rabhi. I cannot agree with militant ecologists who try and force others to follow the same path. Each person must find their own way, I have found a path that provides me with a reason for my existence.

11 Novembre

2014-11-12T15:44:00.001+01:00

Here in France "Remembrance day" is always celebrated on the 11th of November, whatever day of the week it falls on. It is a national holiday and every village and town has a service organised by the "Mairie" (town hall). In our village the local "fanfare" (brass band) plays for both us and the neighbouring village so the two towns time their services differently.
This year we met outside the town hall at 10:30 before walking in procession to the war memorial. The band led the way in their uniforms of cream trousers, blue blazers, and maroon ties and caps. After them came the "Sapeurs- pompiers" (firemen) led by their flag bearer in his shiny, ancient helmet. Behind the firemen a handful of anciens combattants (old soldiers) dressed in their best suits, adorned with medals and wearing the berets of their old regiments. There are fewer soldiers every year and those that attend now are likely to have fought in France's ignoble colonial wars such as Algeria. After the soldiers the local gendarmes are followed by the local councillors, led by the Mairie and his adjoints with their red white and blue sashes of office. Finally the inhabitants of the village straggle behind. The band play militaristic marching tunes and our procession mimics those poor souls who set out a hundred years ago.
When we arrive at the war memorial the band lines up in front, the sapeur- pompiers line up on the left and the anciens combatants and local councillors face them on the right. The local schoolchildren are gathered behind the memorial facing the band. The Maire makes a small speech, battling a recalcitrant sound system. Then an ancien combattant reads out a letter written especially for the occasion by the President of his association. Next the names of each villager killed in the first world war are read out by the schoolchildren. It is poignant to hear the names of fathers and sons who both died. I find myself wondering what it must have been like after the war in homes and farms where no males returned.
The next step is the laying of wreaths which is followed by a minutes silence, inevitably broken by the wail of a baby or a car speeding past. Although many people turn out, many more seem to ignore the significance of the day and see it as a holiday.
Finally after a rendition of the national anthem, the militaristic "Marseilles", we are invited to the village hall for an aperitif of "Kir" (white wine and creme de cassis). This pattern is played out up and down France in towns and villages as the country commemorates the lost generation of a horrific war we can hardly imagine.

Rugby school

2014-10-14T15:09:00.003+02:00

I have already written about the Forum d'associations and the after school clubs. At last year's forum my son decided he wanted to give rugby a try. The local club is in the next village. In my village they are all mad on football thanks to a wave of Portuguese and Spanish immigration when the mines still operated. I was rather pleased because growing up in eighties Britain all my friends were football crazy, I was not very good at football, and the media was full of hooliganism. Although not particularly good at rugby either, I have always preferred the atmosphere and spirit. Even if, as my wife feared, the risk of injury is greater.
So one Saturday morning we headed off to the rugby ground, much like any other amateur ground around the world. The pitch, of course, surrounded by metal railings and a clubhouse, with bar, dressing rooms and communal showers. The smell of stale sweat, damp and mud took me back to miserable school sports sessions. Why was I doing this to my own son? Men of various sizes in mix and match rugby kits were shaking hands and patting each other on the back in a display of macho camaraderie. Meanwhile parents stood around with their offspring. One of the educators, as the rugby coaches are known, called together the parents of the under seven category and explained how the club operated. The under sevens were the newcomers, the other categories had already trained last year and knew what they were doing. We were told that parents could volunteer to help, "benevole", and could even follow a certificate to be educator, the "Brevet d'Etat d'Educateur d'Ecole de Rugby". In a rush of enthusiasm I volunteered and found myself helping to train every Saturday and accompanying the team to tournaments.
At the same time, I found myself enrolled on the educator training course. This involved going once a month for a theory session on a Friday night, followed by a practical session on Saturday morning. At first I felt like an impostor, my fellow trainees were obviously big rugby fans and discussed the national and international matches. The names of famous players were bandied about and I was teased about being English. I held my own making non committal noises or joking about French arrogance, but I felt out of place. I lacked the technical vocabulary and forced myself to watch matches to understand more. As the year progressed I became more comfortable and, even if I lacked the physical characteristics of the rugbymen, I could talk the talk, and walk the walk. Finally at the end of the year I passed my exam.
However I still felt frustrated because the coach of the under sevens did not really consider me or use me. I blew noses, dealt with minor scraps, tied shoelaces, but my training suggestions were largely ignored. The coach in question had been coaching for a number of years, did not have the certificate and did not much car for the French Rugby Federations rules. At the end of the year I requested to train another category without him. I was given the under eights and began to train for real.
As for my son he seems to enjoy the training sessions and tournaments, despite breaking his wrist early on and then aggravating a knee sprain suffered while skiing. I also think he is quite proud that his Dad is a coach. My wife is a judge for my daughter's aerobic competitions so each child has their parent involved in their activity.

Two years of silence.....

2014-09-30T09:29:00.003+02:00

I was shocked to see how long it has been since I last posted. So much has changed since 2012.
I grew increasingly fed up with teaching English. The historical hang-ups that French people have about speaking English drove me nuts. I can not count the number of times I have heard "Je suis nul en anglais", only to hear the person speak English with only the occasional mistake. The French generally want to speak English but find any excuse not to. So I began to find myself dreading lessons and sinking into deep depression before every lesson. Not good for my family, my students or me. I decided to try my hand at translating. Over the years I have been asked to translate various documents. The advantage is I can work from home and look after my kids. For the moment this activity has not completely replaced teaching, although telling people I am a translator, rather than a teacher, seems to lead to opportunities.At the same time I have immersed myself in Permaculture. In my own garden I built an herb spiral and designed a Mandala garden, both doing well. I have three beehives in a sympathetic neighbour's garden, where I also practice Permaculture techniques.I attended a Permaculture course in the South of France. This was an interesting experience; an eclectic mix of people staying in a run down silkworm farm. The farm was owned by Dutch people who had initially created an artists community that fell apart. The farm was currently looked after by an old, recovering alcoholic, ex- hippie who had travelled throughout Asia. There was no heating and only one hot water boiler. In the winter the caretaker barricaded himself into one room with a wood-burning stove. The compost toilets were plastic bins with wooden seats. They had to be regularly emptied onto a compost heap, that threatened to avalanche onto ones feet. Most of the course participants slept on the dance room floor, however there were also caravans and several of us slept in tents.Our trainer was English; he played on his accent and English humour to capture his audience. The course was interesting but lacked practical elements.On my return to my village I began to promote the idea of transition. I organised two screenings of the Transition movie (http://www.intransitionmovie.com/). Then with a small group of people we set up a system to exchange services. Another group set up a collective beekeeping project. We have also organised an annual litter pick in the village.Then at the beginning of this year I was invited to join the "Conseil municipal", and we were elected in March. We have a meeting every month to vote on issues affecting the village, then there are other meetings to work on specific issues such as urbanise and communication. I chose to be on the Communication and Development Durable commissions. Unfortunately communication is not our strong point, it seems that a quarterly magazine and a luminous sign in the village is enough for my fellow elected representatives. There is a plan to revamp our dismal website but nothing will happen any time soon. As for Development Durable it seems that lip service is paid to the concept but nobody takes it seriously. What I have discovered is that many of the decisions that affect our lives are taken at a higher level, regionally or at the Community of Communes. We have to simply rubber stamp these decisions and sell them to our electors. But it is early days so I am trying to keep an open and positive mind.
Meanwhile I push forward with my Permaculture projects. Patience being my watchword.

Vide grenier (carboot sale)

2012-10-15T14:26:00.000+02:00

Last Sunday we participated at our first 'vide grenier', literally attic emptying. It is the French equivalent of a British car boot sale or US yard sale. In France it is illegal to put up a sign and sell on your doorstep. So that leaves two choices, either selling through a website such as the 'Bon coin' or to participate in a vide grenier. Ours was organised by the 'Sou des ecoles', this is an association which raises money for the local primary school. The money pays for extra materials and helps with school trips. After paying an entrance fee we were assigned two tables and chairs in the 'salle de fete'.

Eight clock Sunday morning found me bleary eyed with a car full of toys, books, clothes and knick knacks. The 'vide grenier' was being held in the 'salle de fete' (village hall). I found our allotted tables and began to set out the stall. The sales were supposed to start at 10am but the first bargain hunters were already on the prowl. I made my first sale at 9am, and was proud to have recuperated our entrance fee. At 10 am by wife arrived to take over, and of course rearranged my layout! I meanwhile visited some of the other stalls. I had decided not to buy anything, after all the objective was to have a clear out and not pick up more clutter. In general people were selling the same as us, so I wasn't too tempted. The stage had been reserved for the 'depot vente'. This was an area were people who had clothes to sell, but didn't want to have a stall, could leave them and have them sold by the association. A small 'buvette' (drinks area) provided free coffee for the stallholders, and sold drinks to the buyers.

It was a wet weekend so things were pretty busy, despite a lull between 12 and 2, while people had lunch. Our best sales were toys and some children's books in English. At 4pm we decided to call it a day and counting our takings were satisfied to discover we had made 100€.

Now I'm looking forward to the next 'brocante' (antiques fair) to spend our earnings.

La rentrée

2012-09-27T10:49:00.000+02:00

It's that time of year again, 'La rentrée', this French expression hangs over us like a black cloud. In essence it refers to the start of the school year, but it symbolises much more than this. The French live for their long summer break and 'La rentrée' marks the end. The long, hot days at the beach or pool are over, no more BBQs or picnics. The days are getting shorter, mornings are colder and everyone knows we'll soon be scrapping ice of our windscreens. One ritual of 'La rentrée' is the trip to the supermarket to buy the school essentials. Parents can be seen clutching the lists of stationary demanded by different teachers. Each subject teacher has there preferences and woe betides the parent who doesn't buy the graph paper required by the maths teacher. Their child will undoubtedly fail their Baccalaureate. Another feature of this time of year is the 'Forum d'associations'. Here parents desperately sign their children up for after school activities, that will see them running a taxi service between clubs the rest of the school year. Meanwhile on the work front, the French return to their offices and factories and compare holidays with colleagues who they haven't seen since July. Now it's heads down until the next holiday at Christmas.

Election time

2012-04-27T12:42:00.000+02:00

Last weekend I finally managed to vote in my first Presidential election as a French citizen. It was touch and go, receiving my electors card just a few days before the vote. On Sunday morning I set off for the 'salle des fetes' where the vote was taking place. The names of the candidates are printed on slips of paper, according to French law voters have to pick up two slips before going into the voting booth. In the booth one of the two slips is placed in a small blue envelope and the other discarded. An empty enevelope or two names in the envelope represents a nul vote. The next step is to join a queue at the end of which there are three people. One person takes the elector card and, in town with more than 3,000 inhabitants, checks the identity. He calls the name to a second person who checks against the registered voters list, if everything is okay he calls out 'à voter'. At this point the third person opens the slot on a clear plastic cube and the voter slides the blue enevelope in. And that's it.
On my turn the person checking my electors card asked, with a small smile, 'How does a person born in England vote in France?'. I explained that I now had French nationality.
While his question was good humoured, for me it underlines one of the issues of this campaign, that of foreigners in France. People are concerned about immigration and the loss of power to the European Union. This in part explains the good results for Marine Le Pen and the Front Nationale. In a time of crisis people are afraid and feel threatened by foreigners. While I've lived in France for 11 years, and my village for 7 years, and I'm now a French national I don't think I'll ever be accepted as French. Nobody in my village is openly racist towards me but they always make humourist commenst about 'les Anglais'.
Now we have to wait for the second round to see who comes out on top. Although I must confess that in the current economic climate there is no real difference or choice.

French nationality

2012-03-26T08:23:00.002+02:00

I recently went to the Prefecture to receive my French nationality. This exactly one year after I handed in my application file, and just in time for me to vote in the coming elections. I had made the decision to apply for French nationality for two reasons. Firstly after 11 years in France I am more interested in what the French government does, and want to have my say in that. The second reason was to have a French ID card which will make life easier, since they stopped giving British nationals a 'carte de sejour'.
The first step was to bring together the necessary documents. Then I had to take an appointment at the Prefecture to present my application. I was given a short interview to test my French skills, before being told it would take the Minister of the Interior one year to decide. Strangely I was never asked the question I expected about my motivations for applying for French nationality. I should reassure my readers that I still have my British nationality, I am able to keep this.
As predicted by the lady at the Prefecture, it took the Minister a year to decide, and a few weeks ago I received a letter inviting me to a ceremony to collect my declaration of nationality. So, on the day I smartened up and even put on a tie. A group of about 60 people had gathered in front of the doors of the imposing Prefecture building. At 2:15pm precisely, a small door opened in the huge wooden gates. We were shown into the palatial interior of the Prefecture, with its chandeliers and two huge, garish vases. After checking our identities, we were led into another room, and sat in rows infront of a video screen. As we waited we eyed up our fellow nationality applicants. An older gentleman next to me spied my provocitive Union Jack pin badge, and asked whether I was able to keep my British nationality. I confirmed that this was the case for European nationals. He then told me that his Chinese wife was not able to keep hers. I looked at the young women at least thirty years his junior, and wondered how they had met. He then asked me if I knew any cheap deals to London, as his wife was keen to go on a shopping trip. As I looked around the room I spotted a number of older men with young ladies sitting next to them. Finally after 45 minutes of nervous shifting, murmered conversations, and impatient children, the Prefect arrived in his military style, but rather shaby looking uniform.
He informed us we would watch a video, followed by a short talk by him. Then we would be called up one by one to collect our declaration of nationality, before being invited to have a drink together. The video lasted 5 minutes or so and dewlt on the long proud heritage of France, the revolution and the principles of the Republic. The Prefect then underligned these principles of 'Liberty', 'Equality' and 'Fraternity'. He also stressed the separation of state and religion, and the respect for others. Finally we were called up to receive a file containing our declaration of nationality as well as other official documents. In a neighbouring room we were served champagne or soft drinks and that was that.
I must admit to experiencing something of a climax. I expected to hear the stirring tones of, and sing along to, the Marseillaise. Instead our folders contained a paper with the words of the national anthem, and another with the Declaration of the rights of man. We didn't even have to swear to be faithful citizens. Maybe I'm being too nationalistic but I felt that it was a sign of our times that the obtaining of a nationality has become a simple bureaucratic process without significance for those who apply.

La folie the sequel

2012-03-06T12:54:00.000+01:00

So here the sequel to La Folie. And frankly it's a disappointment. A navel gazing, philosophical ramble about the meaning of his life and his search for a soul mate. One has the feeling that after the success of the first book he felt or was pushed to give us more. It's easy reading if you've got nothing better to do.

Snow in the mountains

2012-02-09T11:32:00.000+01:00

Here's a few pictures of the mountains near Grenoble at the moment. We've had lots of snow and it's magnificent.
These pictures were taken on a ski randonée trip. Ski randonnée involves attaching synthetic skins to the underside of specially designed skies. These skins stop the skies sliding backwards as you go up the slopes. Once you reach the summit the skins are removed and you can ski down as normal. The advantage is that you can go off the slopes. The disadvantages are that it requires a lot of effort and the descent is often rapid. In addition the risk of avalanche is higher as the areas are not made safe as in a normal ski station.
Another option is 'racquette' or snow shoe. Recently we spent a pleasent evening in a refuge listening to an Irish music band. We started at 7pm walked for an hour and then spent the night in the refuge. It was cold but we felt very privileged to see the mountains at night.
All that being said I'd like it to warm up a bit now.

English bookshop in Grenoble

2012-01-23T17:54:00.001+01:00

The Bookworm Cafe

For those of you living in Grenoble I recommend this small cafe in rue St Laurent. It sells English books for both adults and children, as well as organising a number of other events and activities.
Check out the link above.
I am particularly recommending it as it was started by a very warm hearted and generous young lady, who heped me when I first arrived in Grenoble as a novice teacher. Unfortunately this person passed away just before Christmas 2011, much too young. Her husband runs the Cafe and as a tribute to her I want it to prosper, so get on down there and tell your friends.
Thanks

2012-01-19T21:14:00.002+01:00

The French music scene is quite dynamic and seems to hold its own against the tide of US music. You've no doubt heard of rock legends such as Johnny Haliday but there are many more to discover. Here are a few of my favourites.

First there's Renaud with his socially engaged music.

Then newer singers such as Chrisophe Mae, who offers a rock/ reggae mix.

And finaly one of my favourites, Grand Corps malade, who writes slams with a social message.