Trip to Italy: Part 1

Alright, my trip to Italy. It started last Friday when we took a train from Aix, changed in Nice, then took another train from Nice to Milan. The train to Nice was a TGV: fast, comfortable, and clean. There was even a place to buy food and drink, and a voice announced the name of the next station. The train to Milan, however, was less impressive. It took five hours and was rickety. Each carriage had little six-seat rooms (à la Hogwarts Express from Harry Potter) and there wasn't anywhere to get food... for five hours. At one point, all the lights in the carriage went out for about half an hour... which was a shame, because it was dusk and we frequently went through tunnels in pitch darkness.

Anyway, when we finally got to Milan we were all starving and dived into a McDonald's near the station, then trekked off to find our hostel. It was fairly far from the station but our rooms were fantastic. The hostel is run by two brothers, Alfredo and Huberto, who spoke exceptionally-good English and were really helpful with guiding us around the city. Because our hostel was outside of the city center, not much was open nearby and we didn't do much Friday night.

The next day we found brunch at a little Italian cafe: cappuccinos and delicious mozzarella-tomato-lettuce sandwiches. We headed toward Milan's national monumental cemetery, which is filled with giant, impressive tombs for famous people from Milan's history. They're not just gravestones, these are practically mini chapels with amazing architecture. And the cemetery's huge: we barely saw a fraction of it, according to our map.

Next we saw Castello Sforzesco, a giant fortress in Milan that dates from the 14th century. It's now filled with art museums and, interestingly, was bombed by the Allies during World War II. Saturday was pretty hazy in Milan, which made for really cool light as the sun shone down on the fortress courtyard:


In Milan we also saw the Duomo de Milano, a giant 14th-century cathedral that, as you can probably tell from this picture, is incredibly impressive. Every corner, line, and angle of the building is ornately decorated with points, turrets, statues; inside, we weren't allowed to take pictures but the stained glass windows filled entire walls and were truly stunning. It's a gorgeous, immense church, and it had a very unique "feel" inside: it was cool, much cooler than outside, and everybody's whispers echoed all around. Even today, the Duomo dwarfs other buildings near it, and it's easy to see why people feared the church's power when the cathedral was first constructed.

On the way back to the hostel from the Duomo, we inadvertently took a shortcut through Milan's ritzy district. We passed Bulgari, Rolex, Brooks Brothers, Gucci, and other high-end stores; we passed Ferraris, Bentleys, scores of Porsches (everything from Boxsters to a GT3 RS), and even saw a Lamborghini Murciélago and Lotus Elise. There appears to be some serious money in Milan! One of the Ferraris, a yellow F430, saw us gawping at the traffic lights. When the lights turned green, the driver gunned it and gave us an Italian supercar symphony.

Speaking of cars, Italian police seem to either drive tiny Fiat hatchbacks or Alfa Romeo sedans, both in baby blue with "POLIZIA" or "CARABINERI" plastered down the side. Outside the train station, we also saw a military (national guard? army?) jeep; two soldiers stood nearby with machine guns.

Food in Italy was to die for. I had some of—or possibly the best—pizza and pasta I've ever had, and it wasn't even exceptionally expensive. I wasn't really surprised to find that almost everyone we encountered spoke English: we'd tried to learn some simple Italian words and phrases, and we used them, but each time we were greeted with a flurry of English.

That was a horribly-brief account of what we did in Milan, but for now it'll have to suffice. I took 275 pictures during the five days I was in Italy and am still sorting through them, but will post soon. Arrivederci!

Read part two of my Italian adventure here.

Back in France

Hello all, after taking three separate trains today I am back in France. My trip to Milan and Florence was excellent and at some point soon I will write up some posts about it, replete with pictures. For now—given that I got home about ten minutes ago—I'm going to eat and unpack.

Packing for Italy

What's been going on in Aix lately? Not a great deal, if I'm honest. The university strike is still going on so I didn't have too many classes this week. Fortunately, I do have books to read and met with a tutor yesterday and today to help me get some direction in reading for my canceled classes. I also went to Aix's English bookstore, Book in Bar, because I'll be on the train for a looong time coming back from Italy. They have a student discount and so I got Atonement, because I know I couldn't stand to read my French school books for the whole trip.

Yes, tomorrow afternoon I leave for Milan. Sunday we're heading to Florence, and Wednesday I'm returning back to Aix, hopefully with plenty of pictures and adventures to blog about. I think we have everything—hostels, trains, etc—sorted, and given that the only Italian I speak is what I learned in a phrase book, I hope we are prepared!

Last night French president Sarkozy was on TV again, this time to unveil his latest plans to help the French people. He's setting aside €2.65 billion to cut taxes and improve benefits. If that doesn't satisfy the unions—which it probably won't—there's going to be another national strike March 19. Sarkozy started off his speech by noting that France wasn't the only country facing economic troubles; he bragged that France had been less affected than other countries and would recover sooner.

Yesterday, the Internet in my apartment wasn't working. I asked my host about it, and she said there was a simple fix. She called the Internet provider's support number, then hung up during the automated phone menu. Apparently, the tech support number is a pricey toll line, so the company makes plenty of money off support calls. And if you haven't called for a few months, your Internet connection stops working until, surprise surprise, you call the tech support line. Is it really a conspiracy? Mme says she's convinced, and her method seemed to work yesterday.

This week I also watched two French films that were on TV after we ate dinner in the evenings. One, Ma soeur et moi, was a Mrs Doubtfire-esque comedy about a man who has to pretend to be his sister, and last night was Astérix et Obélix : mission Cléopâtre. Aside from the snidest witticisms or thickest accents, I found I could understand them pretty easily. Listening to people speaking French all day, everyday has definitely improved my comprehension abilities.

For the rest of today I'm going to write my academic journal about what I read for my classes that were canceled and pack for the trip. See you all next week!

Chilling in the Luberon

All last week, the weather forecast kept predicting warm-ish highs of anywhere between 7ºC and 13ºC (45ºF—55ºF), yet every day was still freezing cold. Why? The mistral, a horrendous wind that whips down from the mountains and chills Provence to the bone. To quote Peter Mayle's Provence A-Z:

"A winter mistral in full blow can often reach 115 miles per hour... If it doesn't actually live up to the Provençal fable of blowing the ears off a donkey... it has little to commend it except one redeeming value: it brings with it blue skies"

Le mistral was in full force all weekend, and Saturday's outing to the Luberon took us to villages perched atop hills that were being pummelled by the biting cold wind. We were also accompanied by an over-enthusiastic tour guide; she was knowledgable, but didn't know when to stop. I learned all about which government entities paid for the D7N, the road we took to the Luberon, and exactly how to build the dry-stone walls that are so popular in the area...

Speaking of which, I didn't realize that the Luberon was a region, rather than a town. Surrounded by dramatic mountain ranges, the Luberon is unmistakably rural and isolated but undeniably beautiful and includes scores of small, old, quaint villages.

Our first stop was Ménerbes, a tiny town perched on a hill that looks out over the Luberon. I took this panoramic picture from the top:Although beautiful, Ménerbes was closed. Other than a boulangerie where I got a pain au chocolat, nothing was open. And the town is so small that there wasn't much to do except take scenic pictures and try to keep warm. The town's big claim to fame, incidentally, is that Peter Mayle lived near there until the late 90s. By then, I'm told Mayle had so many tourists coming to visit him that he moved away.

Next stop was Roussillon, also closed and cold. We did manage to find a small place for lunch, which was good even if the service was slower than glaciation. Roussillon made its money by extracting the ocre in the local soil. That gives the soil and cliffs a stark orange tint, as you can see at left. Like Ménerbes, Roussillon was very quaint and pretty but, because of the wind, the streets were practically deserted.

We then took a winding road down into a valley to the Abbaye Notre-Dame de Sénaque, a cistercian abbey. (Well, apparently it's not really an abbey; you need 12 monks to be an abbey, and with just six, Sénaque is just a priory.) Either way, it was a fascinating place and we had a great guided tour. The monks there, I learned, must be chaste, without posessions, and can only talk when it's absolutely necessary. And until recently, they couldn't even leave the abbey.

Our final stop of the day was Gordes, which is most remarkable from the road leading up to it. Like many old Provençal towns, Gordes is a so-called "perched village". Towns were built atop big hills and surrounded by high walls to serve as natural fortresses. The benefits are clear: a perfect view of the surrounding countryside and an easily-defended town. Our bus stopped on the road leading up to Gordes for the best view of the town—it's literally cut into the side of the hill. At the top, it was the same story: a chilly, windy, deserted town that, like Ménerbes and Roussillon, would probably be lovely on a warmer day.

I don't wish to sound like I hated the trip. On the contrary, we saw some truly picturesque scenery, learned a lot about rural Provençal life, and had an eye-opening tour of an abbey. But I thought that coming to the south of France would let me escape the bitter cold that pervades Michigan in February. Little did I know!

Today my literature class was canceled once again. I've been reading the Corneille book for the class, though, and Thursday morning our exchange program has organized for some tutors to come and help us keep up with the work in the class. At this point, the strike has become something of a fun little game. Each time I go to class, I never know whether I'll be going home in 15 minutes or two hours.

Wine and libraries

Wednesday night, I went to a wine tasting aimed at exchange students in Aix. Run by two Americans who've lived in Aix for several years, Wine in Provence teaches you how to taste wine and let us sample (small) glasses of seven different wines: two whites, two rosés, and three reds.

Along with other American, Japanese, and even Dutch exchange students, I sampled the various wines and learned all about swirling for better flavors, sniffing before drinking for the full effect, and how to describe the tastes of wines—dry, floral, earthy, etc. It was really interesting because the people who run it knew all about winemaking and I learned a lot.

Thursday morning I woke up bright and early, optimistic that I'd have my history class... but I didn't. Instead, I tried to use the Fac's library to find books so I could start reading for my history class. That was a bit of a disaster. Firstly, the Bibliothèque Universitaire's website listed the three books I needed. Great! But when I got to the library, it turned out that two of the books were actually in a different library on the other side of Aix. However, one book was supposed to be there under sorting number 908.9. I searched through the stacks past the 940s, 930s, 920s, and 910s... but the next section was 376. Books 900 to 909 were nowhere to be found. I retraced my steps and looked around, but still couldn't find 908. Eventually I noticed that, on the far side of the room, there was a section hiding books 900 to 909. I still couldn't find the book I wanted; when I checked on the catalog computers, it turned outside someone else had just checked out the book.

Yesterday afternoon I did have Anthropologie de la Provence again, and I really like it. Our professor talked about the social classes of 19th-century Provence and the ways in which traditional Provencal towns were/are organized. Knowing that there are many exchange students in the class (eight Japanese students, some Canadians, and many Americans), our professor speaks clearly and always spells out proper nouns and obscure words, which is great. As I said last week, she supports the strike but said she thinks it's counterproductive to cancel classes.

When I got home from class, I saw the end of a TV show talking about the recent rise in crime in France. Apparently, burglaries and robberies have been steadily increasing—especially in the PACA region, where Aix is located. The presenter said that as home and car locks and alarms have improved, more criminals are resorting to violence in the south of France. How reassuring!

Friday means Expression Ecrite again. Today we learned more about composing a French essay, with a problematique instead of the Anglophone thesis statement. For next week, we have to write part of a French-style essay on the subject, "Can we note similarities between the arts of painting and literature?" After, I had pizza on the Cours Mirabeau with some friends. It was bright and sunny, and aside from the ever-present winds that have kept Aix chilly all week, fairly warm.

I used the afternoon to visit Bibliothèque Méjanes, where I managed to find four books I need to start reading for my classes. Like the BU, Méjanes isn't very well organized. Perhaps, though, I'm just spoiled by U of M's excellent, thoroughly-modern library? Either way, I now have four thick, heavy French books to start studying.

Tomorrow we have another program outing. This time it's to the Luberon—not Lebanon, as another student mistakenly said—a scenic region of Provence near A Year in Provence author Peter Mayle lives.

I have a train ticket, but no classes

First, let me tell you about my recent purchases. As you can see, I did buy some shoes. They're super comfortable and super French. I got them at a store called Andre and I must love them because, as everyone who knows me understands, I'm not a fan of shoe shopping. I also finally found a bag of plain M&Ms at Monoprix; M&Ms are my kryptonite and I hadn't had any since December until Monday. Finally, I bought a French car magazine called L'auto journal. At the back it has a list of new-car prices and it's kind of shocking how expensive cars here are: for example, a Volkswagen Jetta starts at the equivalent of nearly $27,000 and can reach $36,700 fully loaded!

Secondly, I'm very intrigued by what my blog's hit counter reveals. As I expected, most of the hits come from England, the U.S., and France. But I've also gotten hits from Israel, China, the Ukraine, Brazil, Chile and Belgium. Very odd.

Anyway, yesterday my morning class was canceled so I got up at 7:30 a.m. for naught. Fortunately, I did have my afternoon class, another round of France en Perspective that covered the Hun invasions of France, Charlemagne, and the emergence of the Royaume de France.

Today we had a meeting with our exchange program about how we can still get transfer credits in the U.S. despite the strikes. It's a two-part solution. Primarily, we need to carry on reading the books from our classes' syllabi and going to class each week "just in case" our professors show up. Secondly, we're gonna to start keeping a journal that records whether we have class or not and what schoolwork we do outside of class (ie. reading required books). And starting next week, the program will attempt to find us tutors who can teach us outside of class.

It's good that we'll still be learning and working toward getting credits, but it's unfortunate that we don't know how long the strike will last, and that we can't go to La Fac despite all we're paying. The good news is that only three of my six classes are actually being canceled due to the strikes, so I at least have some classes each week. Even so, I can't wait for the end of this grêve.

I also finally bought tickets to return to Aix from Italy. I tried to buy them online several times but kept being told about a technical error. Yesterday I went to the train station in person and had to wait in line for about 15 minutes, but was able to buy my ticket very quickly once I got to the counter. Everything's now ready for my trip to Italy (Milan and Florence) during our one-week break at the end of February!

The turmoil continues

Uh-oh. Another blog post about how the French are discontent with their government.

Of the many things Sarkozy announced on TV last week, one of the more interesting was his plan to eliminate income taxes for those in the poorest tax bracket. French people who earn between €5853 and €11,673 pay, on average, about €300-€350 in income tax per year. Sarkozy proposed that by eliminating that, he'd help the poorest French people gain more purchasing power.

The public reaction wasn't great. First, giving people just €350 extra per year isn't a huge sum. Moreover, nearly 50 percent of French people are too poor to pay any income tax at all (ie. they earn less than €5853 per year) and won't benefit from this plan. And new polls found that up to 61 percent of the French population have "opinions négatives" of Sarkozy. Now you see why the unions are proposing another national strike on March 19!

The university strikes are also still in full force. Today my professor said that instead of holding class, we'd go and listen to the assemblée générale and talk about why professors want to strike. The results of the assemblée were twofold: firstly, there will be a student demonstration in Aix tomorrow (in which I will not participate), and then another in Paris this Thursday. Secondly, the union is going to prolong the university strike until at least Thursday, possibly longer. My professor said he believes this will be a long, difficult, extended strike.

I do sympathize with the professors here and understand why they're striking, but it doesn't have the same effect for me. French students will be at La Fac for a few more years and have a vested interest in what happens. I'll be there until June and, without wishing to sound selfish, just want to take classes. The good news, however, is that I spoke to one of our program directors today about receiving transfer credits at Michigan. She said that, if the school strike is going to last too long, our exchange program will find tutors or graduate students to help teach us Americans so that we at least do some schoolwork here and can receive credits back home.

One final note before I go to bed. Tonight for dinner I had cake. Not gâteau, but cake: it's basically a loaf of bread, with things mixed inside. Tonight ours had tuna inside and it was delicious. Apparently, you can also put ham, cheese, olives, practically anything inside cake.

I was also told after my crêpes post that it was the Belgians, not the French, who invented steak frites. I haven't been able to verify it; the French and English Wikipedia pages on the subject are very brief and Google didn't find any evidence either way. Anyone know the answer?

The Three Rs: Reading, Writing, and Pronounciation

Yesterday I had class again, Expression Ecrite. It seems I'm the only one who doesn't hate the professor. Our professor is head of the IEFEE here in Aix, and dresses to the nines every single day. He has a sharp, clear French accent and appears to have swabbed his face in Botox. The problem comes from the fact that M. Charbonnier is a very strict, classical style professor who mixes famous Latin, Greek, and French phrases into class. He's very exigeant and has already given us plenty of written homework—after all, the class is supposed to teach us writing. For me, though, his awesome accent and sharp appearance outweigh his somewhat dull teaching style.

One interesting aspect of the class is preparing to write in French written tests. Often, final exams here are four-hour sessions in which students must write about a topic covered in the class. We're going to practice ahead of time, but even so, four hours of writing in French sounds pretty ominous at this point.

Yesterday I had lunch at a kebab place called Topkapi with some friends and it was, in a word, delicious. The meat and vegetables were just sublime, and it wasn't too expensive, either. Despite the weatherman's promise that Friday would be sunny and 13ºC, it was a grey, miserable day. I went shopping in the last of the big sales with some friends and, surprise surprise, I even bought some new shoes. They were very cheap and, after all, the two other pairs I brought with me are very quickly deteriorating with all the walking I'm doing. We also found a fantastic store that sells everything: wine, cheese, absinthe, hard liquor, pocketknives, corkscrews, candy, and more.

Today I actually need to do some homework. I have writing for Expression Ecrite, of course, plus plenty of reading for my classes; even the ones that were canceled gave me background reading so we wouldn't fall too far behind. Tonight we're having dinner with some French girls one of my friends met, which should be interesting. Tomorrow it should be beautiful out and, if so, I hope to finally fully enjoy the parks.

Because of all the rain, we've had a few small leaks in Mme G's apartment. We're on the top floor and when it rains a lot, water drips into the kitchen and living room—not a lot, but it's a problem all the same. The insurance company has to come and look, then the building owner will repair the roof and someone will come to repaint Mme G's ceilings.

Speaking French every single day is becoming easier, but pronounciation is still tough for me. I constantly struggle with words like yaourt and the subtle differences between au-dessus and en dessous, for example. M. Charbonnier even specifically told us yesterday that, despite our good command of French, it was readily apparent that we were Americans. I asked Mme G if that's why so many people in stores or restaurants respond to me in English, but she said no. Mme G believes that French people want to help out foreigners who struggle with French—but only if we make an effort first. "If you give me a gift [of speaking French], I'll give you the gift [of speaking English]" was how she explained it. If I had just shouted English, they might have replied in quick and heavily-accented French to spite me. Moreover, many people here are desperate to practice their English and show off that they can speak it. I'm thus reassured that my accent and sentences aren't as horrendous as I assumed.

"For the unions, Nicholas Sarkozy didn't say anything concrete"

That's the headline of the lead story at LeMonde.fr today, after Sarkozy's talked with journalists live on French TV for over 90 minutes last night. That's not good news: if the unions weren't satisfied with Sarkozy's plan for economic recovery, they were planning to stage a nation-wide strike. It now seems likely that the strike will happen.

Some things Sarko said that didn't go down well? When asked about the EDVIGE scandal (a June 2008 reform that allows the police to k eep huge amounts of info on private citizens), Sarkozy said he had read about those problems "in the papers". Rather than cut taxes or help citizens improve their spending power, Sarkozy said he'd rather re-invest in the national economy. One journalist asked if, like Barack Obama, Sarkozy would limit salaries for corporations who received government aid; Sarko said he wasn't ready to create a "general rule." He also wants to lower taxes for French businesses in order to fight délocalisation, or outsourcing.

Not what the French people wanted to hear.

Why is all this important? French purchasing power has slipped, more people are losing their homes, and unemployment is rising: in August 2008, the rate was eight percent; now it's thought to be closer to ten percent (or nearly 7 million people out of work).

Closer to my heart, university strikes are continuing. Yesterday students from La Fac held a big demonstration in Marseille that made national news. In the morning, I got up early to arrive on time for my 9 a.m. class, and to my surprise, the professor showed up! Unfortunately, she only wanted to tell us that she, too, was striking and that we should come back again next Thursday. Amazingly, my afternoon class did take place. The professor told us that, although she supports the strike, she's against the blocage and disruption that canceling classes causes.

You might think I'm lucky to be missing class. But the risk is that, if strikes last too long, Michigan won't be able to give us transfer credit for the classes we take here. And if that happens, I too will be joining the picket lines.

Great crêpes on fire!

Aside from the chicken liver that Madame T served us one night—she said we should try it and then she'd tell us what we were eating, never a good sign—I don't believe I've eaten anything bad here in France. Whether with my host families, at cafés, or even the many tiny vendors around Aix, food here is delicious. I've also gotten to try many unique new recipes.

Sunday night, for example, Mme G made crêpes for desert and flambeed them in Grand Marnier. As you can see, the effect was striking. And coupled with a heavy dose of sugar, so was the taste.

At places like Crêpes à GoGo, you can have nearly any sugary concotion inside your crêpe: Nutella and bananas, chocolate and whipped cream, etc etc. You can also have crêpes salées, which are basically meals wrapped up in a crêpe. I had one with cheese and mushrooms, for example. Others squeeze eggs, ham, even ratatouille into the delicate lining of a crêpe.

My other big weakness is steak frites and their cousin, poulet frites. I discovered steak frites my second day in Aix, when Dan and I had to find some dinner after Mme T didn't offer to cook for us. The recipe is simple: take a long sub bun, fill with steak or chicken, add fries, and dollop on more mayonnaise and ketchup than your arteries can handle. Cheap, simple, and delicious, if not too good for your diet plans. Given how wont Americans are to add fries to any meal, it's a surprise steak frites are a French invention.

Speaking of diet plans, I need to find a scale. Before I left Michigan, a student who had spent a semester in Aix told me he had lost 10 pounds from walking so much more in France than in Ann Arbor. Another student claimed he had gained 10 pounds from eating too much cheese and chocolate.

So far, I think I've been losing weight: although I haven't stood on a scale to check, I now have to tighten my belt more than I used to, and some of my pants feel a little looser than they did in December. For me, walking is apparently outweighing the calorique nature of French cuisine. How long that will last remains to be seen...

The big, long, overdue update

Finally, I managed to get all the pictures and text I wanted to bring you all up to speed on my adventures here in France. I shrunk the pictures down here so the post isn't 15 feet long, but you can click on them to see each image fullsize.

Well, Thursday's strike wasn't as bad as people seemed to expect. In Aix, I didn't have any classes, but some buses still ran and some banks were even open. In Marseille and Paris, of course, there were huge riots, and our program directors urged us to stay away from any demonstrations.

Unfortunate news about classes, though. One of mine, which was to be about French literature of the 17th and 18th centuries, has been canceled for the entire semester. The professor who was going to teach it just had a baby, and so instead of finding a replacement professor, the class has been canceled. Obviously.

Anyway, I promised pictures of the school (La Faculté) and here they are. Here's are some rundown signs:

And here's the entrance to the "Grand Hall":

Inside, things look like this:


The other big news is that on Friday I moved to my new homestay. It's closer to everything important and above all, a nicer place to live. To move, Dan and I tried to just walk... but with our heavy bags and tiny French sidewalks, we quickly gave up and took a taxi. I now live with a Mme G and her dog Leica. They're both really nice, and I even have Internet at home now—so long, annoying cyber café!

One slight problem was that, because I moved in on Friday instead of Sunday, my room wasn't quite ready yet. As you can see, when I arrived there were still file folders and a giant stuffed dog there, but no desk or place to store my clothes. That's all been rectified now, and my room is positively homely. I even have my own balcony!

I'm so much happier in this new homestay because I actually get to interact with my host. Mme G is very willing to talk to me and help me understand what's going on in France at the moment—see last's night's post about Les Guignols, for example. We've had long, fascinating conversations about everything under the sun, and we even watched Dead Zone dubbed into French! Moreover, getting to La Fac is no longer a 40-minute proposition, which makes me especially happy given that most of the times I go there I don't actually have class.

Saturday was another day trip with our program. We started off at a modern art museum near St Paul de Vence... which was nice, but not amazing. Modern art isn't really my thing, and the museum seemed a little bit lackluster. Next we walked along a tiny little road toward the ancient hilltop town of St Paul de Vence. As you can see, the views along the way were amazing and the town looks incredibly pictaresque and postcard-like, perched as it is atop a hill. Centuries ago, this made the town a perfect natural fortress.

There, I ate poulet frites with some of the other American students before exploring the tiny, twisty back streets of St Paul de Vence. It's endearingly quaint and old-fashioned, although some other students from our program did manage to find an American-style diner for lunch, and a coffeeshop called Le Pink Cadillac. Can't stop globalisation!

After, we went to Antibes and saw the Picasso Museum. They perhaps have too many works by Picasso—one room of his sketches and drafts proved only that Picasso had a penchant for pencil drawings of fauns and women. But the museum was right on the sea, and Antibes was also a quaint town to explore for a while.

Over the last few days I also planned out some travel here. In our February break, I'm going to Milan and Florence with some friends, and in our April break, I'm going to visit someone I know who's studying abroad in Grenada, Spain.

Phew, I think that's about all for now. There's no class due to the strikes today, and I'll try to keep the updates a little more frequent than they have been recently.

We interrupt this blog to bring you...

As you might have noticed, it's been a long time since my last update. So much has happened that I'm in the process of writing a loooong, loooong update. But I've left that post in the "Drafts" folder because what happened today merits blogging about before I forget.

Because one of my classes has been canceled for the entire semester—see upcoming post—I went to our program office to find some others. But all the classes I wanted to take seem to be at the same time as classes I've already picked. I did, however, pay my renter's insurance while at the office today; the paperwork only just arrived, so presumably if I'd had anything stolen last weekend I would have been on my own. Similarly, we still aren't covered by French health care (sécurité sociale) because our program office is still waiting to receive papers from Paris. I've been here a month, so it seems like both these things are a tad overdue...

I then tried to get money from the ATM. Bad idea. Banks are closed Monday, which I knew, but they leave the lobby open so you can use the ATMs inside, where you're protected from the elements and the numerous French conmen who try to spy your PIN. Today, however, the ATMs were turned off. Nothing on the screen, no lights. When I went to go to class, I encountered another French oddity. As usual, I wanted to cut through Parc Jourdan on my way to La Faculté, but the gate was locked. This was 1:30 p.m., mind you, not daybreak or dusk, yet the park was closed for no apparent reason.

I took the long way to the Fac, and when I got into the Grand Hall, found scores of students milling around, sitting on the floor, on the stairs, etc. I asked a French student what was happening, and he explained that the professors' union was planning to hold a grande assemblée to decide whether or not they want to strike. Basically, he explained, the professors are upset about a reform that the education minister Xavier Darcos wants to push through. The student said that last schoolyear, a similar strike lasted a month, and that regardless of the strike's purpose, students don't want it—we'll have to make up lost time at the end of the semester. He asked where I was from (my accent still imperfect, obviously), and asked if Americans ever had strikes like this. I said no, to which he replied, "Ah, nous sommes des spécialistes des grèves!"

When I got to my class, the professor spent some 20 minutes explaining why he and other professors were planning to strike. It goes a little something like this. My professor believes that research is very important at universities because it allows professors to better teach and educate their students; it's more valuable than if professors just recite textbooks. What Darcos wants to do is enact a system whereby research will be subject to an approval committee. If the research isn't worthwhile or valuable—in the eyes of the approver, which is what is so controversial—the professor must spend less time on research and more time teaching. Result? Those who study, say, the liberal arts or out-there sciences are unlikely to receive funding for their studies and won't be able to conduct further research because they need to spend more time teaching. What if, my professor ranted, Louis Pasteur had been subjected to the same criticism? Perhaps he wouldn't have had the chance to discover pasteurization or a rabies vaccine. After our professor finished explaining, he led us to the Grand Hall, where the teachers' union had set up what in the U.S. would be called a townhall meeting: the union spoke, then anyone could voice their opinion. By the time we got there, we were so far back and the crowd was so big I couldn't see or hear what was going on.

Regardless, most universities across the country have called an unlimited strike until the matter is resolved, starting tomorrow. There will be big demonstrations in Paris on Feb. 5 and 10, and I won't have classes for a few days.

Sidenote on Darcos: he's a little controversial because when he was a teacher years ago, he's supposed to have given test results to students just before the bac, a nationwide test kind of like the SAT—despite that, he's now education minister. My professor claimed that the proposed reform just goes to show that the current government is only interested in guarding tax money for themselves and for their "Rolex, le bling-bling, tout ça."

Tonight I talked about the strike with my new host, Mme G, and she suggested we watch a French show called Les Guignols to understand the current French dissatisfaction with the government. Mme G explained that, in France, it's comedians who criticize the government rather than journalists, much like The Daily Show and Colbert Report in the U.S. Les Guignols is a short (10 mins or less) daily TV show that uses puppets to mock the French government. Today's episode had a puppet of prime minister Francois Fillon explaining the government's plan for solving the current crise économique. He said that the government had searched and searched and searched, and found zero solutions. But good news! There are 1001 new construction projects in France, which'll give the French new bridges from which to jump. Thus, no more unhappy French people. Puppet Fillon also explained that the strikes in Guadeloupe aren't a big problem because, thanks to global warming, Guadeloupe will be underwater in a few years.

Mme also talked about why so many are calling for President Sarkozy's resignation: they think he's becoming more and more totalitarian by the day. Two examples? Recently, when Sarkozy visited a town, a crowd there booed and jeered at him. Sarkozy had the local police chief deposed to the other side of the country (for whatever reason, people in public office can't be fired). Secondly, the police are now apparently empowered to take whatever action they want thanks to Sarkozy's take-no-prisoners attitude; the news today recounted the story of an old man who crossed the street when the "Don't Walk" sign was showing. The police arrested the man and hauled him off to the police station.

Oh, and remember that national strike from the other day? Depending on how Sarkozy responds on TV this Thursday, there might be another national strike on Feb. 9... will anything ever happen in France other than strikes?

All in all, an fascinating day. Sure, the lack of banking and class was frustrating, but I feel this is a fortunate time to be in France. The people are sick of Sarkozy and his government and seem practically ready to revolt. It strikes me that the French are taking a very direct action against a bad government. When Americans hated Bush's decisions, I don't feel like anyone got as angry as the French are getting with Sarkozy. Professors striking indefinitely? Half of the country staying home to protest the government's economic policies? Say what you will about the French, but they know how to get angry.