The Hedgehog and le Hérisson

Those who know me know that books are a big part of my spring stay in Charlottesville. (More will be revealed in future posts.) This year, the book theme started earlier than usual. I discovered at my knitting group that several of my friends there were members of the same book club, hosted by the New Dominion Bookshop, my favorite book store in Charlottesville. Opened in 1924, it still looks like a bookstore should.


Its mezzanine is host to a variety of book-signings throughout the year – and, as I discovered, a monthly book club, too. The discussion leader is one of the women in my knitting group. They were preparing to discuss a book I love, called “The Elegance of the Hedgehog” by French author and philosophy professor Muriel Barbery. It’s a surprising book club hit here in the United States.

Barbery’s book was also a surprise hit in France in 2006. It was described by her husband, whom she freely admits helped her create the story line and structure that links everything together, as a “gift-seller” – the sort of book people recommend or give to their friends. That’s the way it happened for me. My friend Ingrid told me I would love the book. I did. I, in turn recommended it to others. My friend, Joan – another American in Paris –and I read “l’Elégance du Hérisson” last year. We wondered at the time if it would translate well. Here was my chance to find out. I asked if I could join the discussion and was welcomed as both participant and “cultural consultant.”
By “translate well”, we didn’t mean the language. Alison Anderson seems ideally suited to translating this book. I read extracts of her work and thought that she kept the tone of the French as well as the different melodies of the two languages allow. But this book seemed to me a quintessentially French book – like a really good dinner party with hours of good food and conversation -- well turned and witty phrases, touches of philosophy, art, music, literature. Nothing too deep, perhaps, but elegantly said. The main characters are well drawn and accessible. But, if you knew little or nothing of the “caviar left”, the French intellectual, the role of the concierge, the Portuguese cleaning lady, the self-absorbed pretention of people from “the best families”, could you really appreciate the novel?
After my Saturday morning with an interesting and well-read group of people, my answer is “Partly.” The lone man in the group didn’t like the book at all and didn’t finish it. Several of the women expressed serious reserves, saying the characters seemed stereotypical and the book was hard to get into. Alison Anderson would not have been surprised. She says in her blog “Not everyone likes it; my own sister couldn’t finish it. That is the prerogative, and the duty, of Great Books, to be disliked, or misunderstood as much as they are loved and praised. “
My conclusion, after a stimulating morning, was that those who liked the book had appreciated the universal elements. Others had more cultural filters – things they either didn’t understand or understood but did not appreciate. I helped where I could but I learned, many years ago, that experience can’t be transmitted. I’ve had nearly forty years to try to understand the French and I learn something new every day. "Vive la différence".

Baron de Coubertin vs NBC

The French love the Olympics. They feel a proprietary interest in them. It was, after all, their own Baron de Coubertin who instigated the revival of the Games in 1896 and served as President of the International Olympic Committee from 1896 to 1925. France has hosted the Summer Olympics twice and the Winter Olympics three times.
Americans love the Olympics, too. The United States was one of the 14 countries present at the 1896 Games. They’ve hosted the Summer Games and the Winter Games four times each. And who can forget Avery Brundage, President of the IOC from 1952 to 1972?
I, also, love the Olympics. I acquired my first TV set in 1976 to watch the Innsbruck Winter Games. For years, every fourth February I spent as much time as I could in front of my French TV marvelling at the winter sportsmen and women. Every fourth August, I sat in front of my American TV for hours cheering on the athletes of the Summer Games.
That changed in 1996. I was so disappointed by the American Summer Olympic coverage that I made a vow never to watch the Games here again – a promise I kept until February 21st of this year. The dates of my Charlottesville trip meant that I would see half the Olympics in Paris and half in Charlottesville. At least I’d be able to compare. And compare I did.
In France, the Olympics is broadcast on public television. These channels have few commercials (and none, by law, after 8 p.m.) They are financed by a TV licence fee. The very idea of that makes many Americans gasp. But I am more than willing to pay the equivalent of 50 cents a day to have essentially commercial free TV.
Though much is made of French athletes and medal chances, French coverage --perhaps mindful of Baron de Coubertin -- never forgets that the Olympics are international. Knowledgeable and excited commentary about the strength of the Norwegian skiers, the elegance of the Chinese skaters, the daring of the American snowboarders might lead a distracted listener to believe that French athletes were winning all these events.
Sport itself provides all the drama. Favorites fall. Young athletes come out of nowhere to win their first medals. We see complete hockey games. (We also see 23 pairs of ice dancers doing very similar tangos to the same music for 2 hours and 50 ski jumpers trying to qualify for 40 places in the semi-finals of their event.) It’s just like being there – except you are warmer, more comfortable and can see better. And if you get too bored, you can do something else until the next event comes on. Since Vancouver is 9 hours earlier than Paris, many of the events took place in the middle of the night and lots of us had to rely on the two hour morning summary for our Olympic thrills.
American private television handles the games very differently. NBC paid $2 billion dollars to cover the Beijing and Vancouver Olympics and their goal is to earn all that money back and make a profit. Since many of the events took place when people were at work or school, NBC decided to do an “Olympics cabaret” every evening from 8 p.m. until midnight. By doing nothing live, they were able to weave sports highlights with filmed interviews and short documentaries on polar bears and husky dogs while breaking every four minutes for three minutes of commercials. (Yes, I counted.) Only on the final weekend, did they show three exciting live events. Do the American people like it this way? Some do; many don’t. But, as one of my friends said: “I watch it because otherwise I wouldn’t see anything.”
My comparison has been made and so has my decision. In 2012, it will be Baron de Coubertin’s Olympics for me.

Shopping local -- without a car

Since I don’t have a car (or even a driver’s licence), grocery shopping is somewhat harder for me here in Charlottesville than in Paris. Occasionally a friend takes me with her when she shops. Most of the time, I take a five minute walk to the bus stop where I catch a bus which takes me to another bus which takes me to two supermarkets and a health food store. If I want more gourmet or organic fare, I can take a different bus to a different area of town and shop there. People with cars can go out into the county to one of the organic farms and buy fresh produce, organic meat and dairy products but I can’t.
Nearly a year ago, a young electrical engineer and entrepreneur from Charlottesville called Zach changed my shopping life. Zach’s great idea was to provide a way for people to shop for local food on-line and then pick up their groceries near where they live or work. Some of the greatest ideas are the simplest.
He created a business called Retail Relay which lets you shop a number of local stores in Charlottesville and organic farms in nearby counties – including Polyface Farm made famous by Michael Pollan in his book “Omnivore’s Dilemma.”
You order and pay on-line before midnight of the day before you want to pick up your groceries. His team collects the orders from all the stores in the morning, packs them in a truck and you have your groceries in one easy pick-up that afternoon.


I first found out about Retail Relay from my friend Jeanne this summer.
Seven months ago, they had two or three pick up places in the parking lots of local businesses. They visited each once a week. On Tuesday, they came to a lot across the street from where Jeanne worked. All summer I ordered my groceries on Monday and she brought them to me after work on Tuesday evening.
By the end of my Christmas holiday, Retail Relay had become so successful that they had expanded their pick-up locations to two or three per day, five days a week. And one of the Monday locations was a five minute walk from my house!
My least favorite time to grocery shop has always been the day after I get in from Paris. All I want to do is unpack, check my mail and recover from my flight. But off I had to trek to the supermarket and back. That usually ate up about three hours of my first tiring day.
But not this time. I ordered my groceries in Paris on Saturday. I flew to the United States on Sunday. And on Monday afternoon, I trotted off to the parking lot where the Retail Relay truck was waiting.
Life is good.

Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres

Every February, I remember my first year of Latin --- struggling to translate portions of Julius Caesar’s Commentaries on the Gallic Wars. “All Gaul is divided into three parts” we read.
Many things have changed in France since 51 B.C but Gaul is still divided into three parts at the Ministry of Education.
All French children start school on the same day in early September. Their first vacation is around Toussaint and their second at Christmas. For the last two vacation periods before the longer summer break, school districts or académies are divided into three zones -- A, B and C. Each zone has two two week breaks between February and April. Every year the vacation period is rotated among the zones so that, over three years, each district has the early, middle and late vacation slots.
A number of years ago, after much reflection, the Education Minister of the time revealed a plan to modify the school year. All French children would have 7 weeks of class and then 2 weeks of vacation throughout the year –- with a longer summer holiday. The regular rhythm would ensure less stress and fatigue for the nation’s children and their teachers. This well-thought out plan never saw the light of day. Ski resorts immediately went into protest mode. The February vacation, officially called “vacances d’hiver” (winter vacation) and popularly called “vacances de neige” (snow vacation) or “vacances des sports d’hiver” (winter sports vacation) is a very profitable time for ski resorts. They would much rather see it continue to be spread over an entire month than cut to two weeks for all. Capitulation by the government was immediate. So much for the reduction of stress and fatigue in the school-age population. Vive le ski!.
What amazes me every year is how much greater the myth is than the reality. February newscasts are always full of ski resort stories – how many extra trains have been scheduled, how many tourists are in each mountain village and how much they are spending. There are regular avalanche warnings and news of mountain rescues. Traffic reports tell us every weekend how many hours it takes to reach the resorts. Weather reports inform us whether the snow is “good” or not – and how much of it there is.

Television news records the departures at the Gare de Lyon

Yet statistics show that only 7%-8% of the population actually takes a week’s ski holiday. Some don’t like winter sports; others can’t afford it. Those who live near resorts just go for the day a few times a year.
Still vacations are always good – even if you don’t support the ski slopes. This year Zone C (the zone Paris is part of) has the latest vacation period. I allowed all the avid skiers to get away.


Then I left too – for Charlottesville. They’ve had a lot of winter weather here this year. So, I, too, will be able to talk about my “vacances de neige” when I return to Paris in the spring.

Bonne Saint Valentin --- or not.

Of course, the French know about Valentine’s Day. It’s officially called la Fête de Saint Valentin and commonly called “la fête des amoureux.” (Lovers’ Day) What the French don’t seem to know is how to celebrate it.
That’s not the fault of the jewelry stores, the florists, the chocolate shops, the patisseries or the lingerie shops. All had hopeful displays nestled in red and pink with simpering cupids this week.


It’s not the fault of the women’s magazines, whose February issues feature special recipes and table settings for “romantic dinners”.
The media can't be held responsible. They always have special Valentine’s Day segments in the days before February 14th. In fact, one morning show host said with an ironic smile last week, “What is Valentine’s Day for? It’s to give the media something to talk about.”
If you were to ask French people to describe Valentine’s Day customs, I’m sure the vast majority would tell you that it’s the day men give the woman they love a gift of flowers, candy or jewellery and/or take them out for a special dinner. But do they do it? A recent poll asked how many intended to celebrate today and 50% said yes. Based on my own friends, I’m inclined to believe that was more “giving the expected answer” than exact truth. Either that or the poll was heavily weighted to young, newly-formed couples.
It turns out that this holiday has been known in England for centuries and had travelled to North America via English settlers but was unknown in the rest of Europe until about 30 years ago. Friends confirm that there was no sending of Valentines or giving of presents on this day when they were children or teenagers. And they are stunned to hear that, in North America, Valentine’s Day is not just for lovers. Young children celebrate it happily by sending each other cards and having parties. If you don’t believe me, google “Valentine’s Day parties” and see what turns up.
When it comes to Valentine’s Day, I proudly assert my North American roots. Love is always something to celebrate and to share. So to you, my faithful blog readers, I wish a very happy Valentine’s Day whoever and wherever you are.

Les soldes

In what has now become a personal tradition, I’ve just missed les soldes yet again. It’s not as if I don’t know when they are. The dates of les soldes are fixed by law. Les soldes d’hiver (Winter Sales) and les soldes d’été (Summer Sales) are decreed for specific 5 week periods every year. Les soldes d’hiver begin the second Wednesday of January at 8 a.m. (unless this falls after the 12th in which case they start the first Wednesday of January) and end Tuesday February 9th at midnight.
Sales were instituted during the mid-nineteenth century. This is when department stores arrived, turning shopping into a leisure time activity (for those who had leisure time) and wreaking havoc on small merchants who couldn’t compete with the luxury or the variety of these new stores. Zola’s novel le Bonheur des Dames (published in English under the title The Ladies’ Delight) gives a vivid account of this change in French commercial practices. Since the wider variety of goods available meant more chance of unsold stock at the end of the season, the department stores began to have systematic end-of-season sales, undercutting the small merchants even more.
Thus, in 1906 the first law concerning Seasonal Sales was passed – not so much to protect the consumer as to save small businesses. This law was revised in 1991. The Legal Duration of Sales was instituted in January 1997 and, in 2008, Measure 17 of the Law for the Modernisation of the Economy adapted the legislation concerning les soldes once more.
The objectives of this measure were
•to simplify the system “in a context of loyal competition” (though for the first time ever merchants were allowed to sell one or more products at a loss under certain conditions)
•to provide more sales periods during the year (as well as the two national sales periods I’ve mentioned, merchants can now individually determine two other weeks of sales during the year.)
•to permit merchants to dynamise their sales and reduce their stock without the risk of legal penalty (Previously, stores which held sales in periods other than those authorized could be fined.)
The 2008 law also mentioned internet sales for the first time. Emile Zola would have been enthralled.
Some women take a vacation day on the first or last day of les soldes, after reconnoitring their favorite stores beforehand. Merchants usually start the period by offering a 20% to 40% discount on their sales articles. During the third week they may offer 50% or 60% on slow-moving articles. In February, you often see 70% or 80%-off signs. Avid sales–goers have to gamble that the articles they want will still be available when the prices plunge. All very exhilarating if you are a recreational shopper.




One of my problems is that I am not. But the other is my double life. The two national sales periods both coincide with my comings and goings – just not a good time for me to shop. This year, les soldes began the day I arrived back in Paris. I was so busy for the first three weeks that I couldn’t have fit anything else into my schedule. During the fourth week, I recovered from my previous hyperactivity. I really did intend to go to at least one store during the last week but came down with stomach flu instead.
My consolation is that, thanks to Measure 17, I’ll be able to take advantage of the two weeks of “floating sales”. Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.

Groundhogs and Crêpes

It’s February 2nd, which means it’s Chandeleur and all over France people are – or soon will be – eating crêpes. I was puzzled about this when I first came to France.
I knew that
1.Pancake day -- and aren’t pancakes like crêpes? -- was Shrove Tuesday (the Canadian part of me) or Mardi Gras (the American part)
2.February 2nd was Groundhog Day – the day when, if a groundhog saw his shadow, there would be 6 more weeks of winter – a fairly safe prediction in the Northern United States and Canada.
I remained puzzled for years until I discovered that these were actually traditions belonging to the same Catholic holiday.
The Celts had a festival on February 1st just before planting time. They processed around their fields carrying torches and praying that their land be purified so the harvest would be good. The Catholic Church reinvented this familiar holiday, as it did so many others. In France it became Chandeleur, (chandelle is the French word for candle) and in English, Candlemas. The date was shifted to February 2nd, exactly 40 days after Christmas. The purification of the soil became the Purification of the Virgin Mary and the candles represented Jesus as the Light of the World. And the crêpes? The flour used for them was left over from last year’s harvest and their round shape signified the sun that would soon be back.
Where do the groundhogs come in? Well, the Germans, the Scandinavians and some Celts in pre-Christian days celebrated the bear coming out of hibernation to see if the weather was warm enough in late January or early February. The medieval Church frowned on this holiday even more than the other as its festivities included men dressed as bears carrying off young girls. They promoted their Candlemas holiday with some insistence in this part of the world. Candles were adopted but crêpes were forgotten and the idea of an animal predicting the coming of spring remained. Over the centuries the bear was replaced by the smaller -- and less racy -- hedgehog or badger. When German settlers arrived in Pennsylvania in the 19th century, hedgehogs were, apparently, scarce but groundhogs were plentiful so another transposition was made. The rest of the world caught up with Groundhog Day in 1993 thanks to the film starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell.
Whatever you are celebrating today, have a good time. I’ve made my choice.