Bastille Day was really something last Wednesday! The day began early for me. I love the morning light and quiet in Paris --- so I had gotten up early and thought to get up and read for awhile as the day began. A short while later I heard some noises and voices on the street. I stepped out onto our terrace to find the whole length of street had become the staging area for the most amazing variety of army tanks, representative of the French Army motorized troops.

Since World War I the parade has been held on the Champs-Élysées, the first occasion being the défilé de la Victoire (“Victory parade”) led by Marshals Joseph Joffre, Ferdinand Foch and Philippe Pétain on 14 July 1919. Maury and I spent a few hours roaming around where many of the troops were milling around and staging in full dress uniform, including 140 horses all dolled up, ready to lead the parade! Marching down that grand boulevard, with the magnificent Haussmann buildings on either side, it truly has to be one of the most beautiful settings for a parade in the world.

As we sat in a café with tourists having coffee and croissants, the whole scene unfolded. The nervous and excited military personnel --- this probably constitutes the largest military parade in the world, with every mounted, dismounted and motorized troops represented, including schools and academies. The crowds of thousands streaming by to get a view further up on the Champs Elysees --- the French show up to the parade 45 minutes before the parade walking as if they are taking a stroll in the park with no extra equipment --- I didn’t see a single folding chair, igloo filled with food, umbrella, blanket or any of the accouterments you see at the Rose Parade, much less blurry eyed people who had spent the night on the curb saving their spot; nobody stops for overpriced coffee and croissants as we did --- they already had breakfast at home and will probably go there for lunch after the parade; it was quiet, it was orderly; and the only document, I mean the only document that was being handed out by these lovely volunteers with a welcoming “bonjour” was a two page program listing the order of the parade participants. I didn’t see a single street vendor, a single flyer or a single advertisement. Ah, I said to myself, another example of it is “simply not done” in France.

Deciding to avoid the crowds we walked back to our apartment to watch the parade on T.V. and I’m glad we did. About 15 minutes into it, the sky opened up and there was an unexpected downpour. A friend who was there told me that there was absolutely nothing to do but stand there and get drenched. So they did. Meanwhile at Ave Marceau we were having a ball, especially when I realized it was directly in the flight path of all of the military aircraft in the parade. So I got an up close and personal view standing on my terrace. The parade ended with a helicopter fly past and the airdrop of 8 paratroopers, also, what felt like right outside my window. I must say, even for a peacenik like me, it was really impressive.

Later that evening, we went to a small and intimate jazz venue to listen to a Caribbean vocalist from Boston named Lyambiko. It was a great way to end the day with a drink and beautiful soul filled music. For all of the crowds, at this the biggest community gathering in Paris, we only really felt “crowded” on our way home from Jazz, at 12 midnight, when there was traffic after the finish of the fireworks. And the next morning, there were as many people on the Metro as usual, going to work.

A word about the food in Paris and the French who are "all" thin. Well first of all, they're not. Parisians come in all shapes and sizes. However, there is a certain percentage of the populous that does look the picture of French elegance that we equate with Paris. They’re thin, they’re natural, they’re sophisticated and clearly take a lot of pride in looking like that and spend a lot of time grooming that look. Lotions and potions to stay looking young is a huge industry there, as are spas.

The food is just one piece of the picture, but obviously a huge one. So while they are obsessively checking the scale to make sure it never deviates, they simply don’t have the same anxieties and issues around food that Americans do. Something I have learned, even the short time that I have been here, is that there is a world that exists out side of America that doesn’t have food issues because it simply is not a part of the culture. They eat everything, but in small portions, having never been exposed to the super size world of fast food and Costco; there is a cultural discipline about what they eat when --- coffee and croissant for breakfast; small salad or sandwich for lunch; appetizer, main plate and cheese or dessert for dinner with maybe one small roll and one glass of light wine. Most restaurants are only open from 12-2 for lunch and 8-10 for dinner, which is generally when everybody eats. And when you’re done, you’re DONE. The overall sense is that, except for little cups of espresso, they don’t snack in between meals.

I don’t think the word “binging” exists here, much less “dieting.” In fact, from what I can see, the whole weight loss industry (from weight loss programs to self help books, from health food supplements to exercise equipment informationals and every thing in-between) is practically non-existent here. One never feels judged, but I think the typical French person is truly stupefied by the obesity epidemic in America.

You seldom see anyone eating or drinking coffee or other beverages on the street; there are few to none sidewalk vendors or junk food; in the market and bakeries everything is portioned and packaged very small. For exercise they walk all day, and while they walk, they talk, they shop, they stop to chat with friends; and they take the Metro, which on an average day is going up and down several flights of stairs. They think of the gym, jogging and other extreme exercise as a form of torture, and besides, how do you stay looking well groomed all day if you need to spend hours at the gym sweating? And why would one need a personal trainer to motivate you to tell you to look good? You just do because why would anyone want to look bad?

I must say for me, it’s been a great blessing to experience this different perspective. It takes me back to a childhood in Los Angeles, where in my family we had the same cultural and social values around moderation in food that the French do. I can’t remember a single adult or kid for that matter, who was overweight, except for my “zaftig” Grandma Sophie, who by today’s standards would be considered average. Nobody went to the gym, they walked, or they went to Rancho Park, our local community park to play tennis and golf, while the kids kicked a ball around. Or they took a long walk on the beach or a hike in the mountains. Or they went for a sail and had a cocktail on board afterward.

It really makes you stop to think how so much access to so much excess over the last 30 years can have a very detrimental effect physically and emotionally on a society and culture. And how much time is spent judging ourselves, each other and our community around that focal point, rather than what brings joy and beauty and happiness into our lives.

Also something else I noticed here living in France is that when asked about what I do, and I say community education, they are puzzled by the word “community.”

One Tunisian-French woman we met through our English-French conversation group, who for years had been a translator at the U.N. and UNESCO said that it was a word that kept coming up in documents, but she never could really figure out what it meant. In America charitable giving has become completely integrated into the economy as a source of support for picking up the slack that the government doesn’t provide, and providing recognition of the power of individual citizens helping one another. This is especially true for religious organizations that are woven into the culture as providers for social support. I believe it to be an extraordinary conduit to the betterment of our society and to international global betterment as well.

In France they pay much higher taxes that go to social help, museums, universities, hospitals, etc. so in essence, citizens there do not feel a sense of personal responsibility to “give back” in that way, nor are they ever asked. Obviously, it creates a whole bureaucracy on who gets what and who is the individual government official or committee that is deciding that.

In comparison, I came home yesterday to a mountain of charitable requests, brochures, newsletters all geared to tug on your heartstrings and make giving a personal experience. I was thinking that it does make life, at moments, a lot more difficult and challenging. Rather than knowing your income is your own, there is a certain amount of pressure and guilt that you should be giving a portion of it back to society. But I certainly feel honored to take the challenge, and the depth and gratification it brings to me and my thinking of what it takes to build a sustainable society and to recognize the value of individualizing that experience.

It feels a little strange to be back at my desk at home after our seven week adventure. But I've got my scrapbook close by to share with friends and remind me where I've been; I've got my blog to continue connecting my thoughts from here to there; I've got my ultimate French Practice and Review book to keep my eye on the ball and my list of French singers whose CD's I want to order. So the adventure
continues!

In my last blog Maury and I had just finished running our errands on the Champs Elyssee, which has to be one of the most significant and historically known streets in the world. Two weeks later there are bleachers, grandstands, carnivals and all sorts of other tumult lining the street with the approach of Bastille Day this coming Wednesday.

Bastille Day (Fete de la Bastille) commemorates 14 July 1789, when the disenchantment with Louis XVI’s monarchy, the aristocracy and church had led to acts of civil unrest reaching their tipping point. Several hundred Parisians marched to the Bastille Prison and killed the governor, an act that triggered the French Revolution and ended the monarchy. With it came the declaration 'liberte, egalite, fraternite' – freedom, equality and brotherhood. So it’s expected that thousands of people will turn out to watch the procession and military bands as they make their way along the Champs Elyssee, a little similar to the crowd at the Rose Parade. After dark, a huge fireworks display lights up the night sky from around the Eiffel Tower and parties go on all night long in clubs, pubs and restaurants around the city.

So the advice of our guide Antoine notwithstanding, that the best place to watch the parade is at home in front of the T.V., and sitting in the comfort of a café down the block from our apartment to watch the fireworks, it should be a lot of fun and provide a nice finish what will soon be seven weeks here in Paris.

I think I’m ready for a break from our French classes --- as excited as I am about the festivities, I’m excited that it’s our first vacation day from school --- YAY! And the excitement in the air here is really infectious! It’s obvious to us that it wouldn’t be that way if there wasn’t on some basic level that the vast majority of the populous loves being Parisians and a part of a larger culture of France. Though it is evidentially changing --- most of the population has the option to stay in the same career all of their life and not have to worry about ever getting fired, health care is free, and by way of the vast public transportation system, people are continually roaming around and integrating into each others neighborhoods, which adds spice and variety to life.

The main topic of conversation is the country wide protest that the retirement age in being raised from age 60-62. We were told by one particularly chatty cabdriver to expect massive strikes in September that could virtually bring to a crawl all transportation systems and government in the country, over this issue. If the expectation and entitlement that a citizen should be allowed a life of leisure after age 60 is enough for the unions to shut down the country, it’s obvious leisure is as strongly valued as work here! It should be really interesting to see how that plays out!

As foreigners here, though one always feels welcome as a guest, it has struck us time and time again that for people that grow up in Paris, there is a deep connection to their city, and their fellow Parisians. You simply don’t get the same sense as you do in Los Angeles or NYC, where so much of the foundation of our cities is the daily and deep influence of immigrant populations, coming to a new place, continually defining themselves in a new persona. It’s who and what we are, and what we recognize as part of the extraordinary evolution of a liberal democratic capitalist system that depends endlessly on the global infusion of new ideas and transformations from other cultures. But that, combined with our country being such a vast place, does not lead to a necessarily homogeneous patriotism to national holidays, much less a group “think” on any topic --- on the contrary, we pride ourselves on our individualism, while at the same time continuously transforming ourselves by thinking of our next move, both emotionally and logistically. It really makes you wonder how much of the stress in our lives is caused by the nagging worry and fear that what we have, even our essential identity of who we are and where we came from, that is at the very core of our identity, is somehow endlessly being questioned and demanding re-definition of ourselves as Americans.

There is of course here the issue of the Moslem population, and African immigrant population who came here as “workers” and now are demanding integration and equal rights. From the little we have heard and read, the French are really rather confused what to do with a part of their populous, especially in Paris, that are living here for many years, but prioritize their very strong and deep tribal identities over the principles of equality through liberty, equality and fraternity in what is essentially a secular society. We say there is a separation of church and state in the U.S., but when you realize how much of the conversation and thinking is on the subject of how to integrate religion into the society, you realize that we strongly embrace as a principal of individual civil liberty people’s chosen faith. Here the society doesn’t even want to enter into the conversation.

Of course, all are free to practice their religions here, but within limits. Religious institutions, whether they be Jewish, Christian or Moslem, (except for the churches like the Notre Dame that are major historical monuments which are endlessly flowing through with tourists) all have very low key presentations of themselves in very modest facilities. There are private religious schools, but they are not recognized by the government, nor are any universities run by a religious group. So people that choose a religious or extremely ethnic life are knowingly choosing to be outside the rest of the population. For example, there is one mosque that we visited, the only one that was officially built by the government in 1920, to honor the Algerian population that fought in WWI. It’s quite beautiful with the traditional minaret, however it is forbidden to have call for public prayer from it! And a whole side of the mosque is a beautiful restaurant café famous for everyone in the city to come and enjoy the garden, the food, the drink and to sit, read and contemplate.

As coincidence would have it, we live in an area filled with Lebanese restaurants, including what is considered the best in Paris, two steps from our building. When we go to eat there, I feel as if we are the two JAIs (Jewish American Israelis) in a sea of Arabic speaking people, including women all wearing their head scarves and modest though modern dress. It’s not really that different that in the area where we go to school, seeing men walking with their yarmulkes, and traditional women in their head coverings. I honestly feel equally comfortable in both. As a person comfortable in a secular society, I feel as if I fit here in Paris. In other words, people respect you and the fact that you are not French or Parisian, but feel under no obligation to change their society in order to fit your special needs or to make you feel recognized. There is an expression here in Paris, when presented with a different tradition other than the norm: “it simply is not done,” and that is the end of the conversation. This covers everything from when you’re in a restaurant not getting up to use the restroom during a meal to not expecting a smile from anyone on the Metro.

As a side note, there is no official census in France of religion or ethnicity. This was deleted from the census after WWII when the government was forced by the German occupiers to give over a list of Jewish residents, which resulted in the death and deportation of 75,000 French Jews. They were also 125,000 other French citizens who died by similar categorizing by the Germans. We visited a very moving monument in all of their memories.

Also, it’s not just the disinterest on a person’s particularized perspective on themselves about their religious or ethnic history that exists here; there is no illegal immigration, so there is absolutely no question that those that choose to be here illegally will be immediately deported (however there are issues with the status of illegal workers who marry a French citizen and have children born here); that if you don’t speak French, there is no translator provided for you in court or any other governmental agency; that you never run into a sales person, waiter or any service person that is interacting with the public while they are still “learning French”; without becoming a full citizen here, you can’t obtain a work permit and no one will hire you otherwise, etc., etc, etc. These observations make it very interesting of how a secular homogeneous population is created and sustained.

We continue to enjoy our weekend field trips. One was spent in the lovely area of Reim, in the heart of Champagne, as in G.H. Mumm Champagne. What a brilliant marketer that man was! He took what was originally considered totally “inferior” wine because of its bubbles, and turned it into the drink of royalty. We spent an incredible afternoon touring the champagne caves, literally kilometers and kilometers of where they keep the bottles while they age. The surrounding countryside was absolutely beautiful as we drove through the fields and ancient villages. It is astounding to realize that virtually all of the industry and area was destroyed in WWII, then rebuilt and replanted again to its former glory.

And we got an interesting history lesson as well in Reims, where the champagne caves are located. It happened to be the very spot where Germany surrendered to the Allies and General Eisenhower. To stand in the war room that was the location of the Allied headquarters with the original giant maps plastering the walls, and the seats labeled with who sat where at the final surrender, was a real reality check on the absolute futility of war. So much destroyed, 60 million lives lost, only to end with the signing of a declaration on a simple piece of paper; and suddenly all the “warriors” are transformed back into regular citizens. The visual to me of the German generals, simply walking down the stairs of this simple building in a simple town in the countryside of France, to I suppose, the train station to go back to their “regular” lives in Germany, was almost to much to bear, when you think of the devastation that would be felt for generations and generations to come.

And last weekend we totally enjoyed ourselves on our first TGV (the high speed train rail service) ride to the Normandy/ Brittany coast in an area called the Emerald Coast. The beaches were beautiful, the town where we stayed called St. Malo linked with the famous French pirate era, is a magnificent example of a walled port city still thriving. What I particularly enjoy about the weekends is also discovering the wine and foods that are special to the particular region. French food is actually very distinctive and at the end of the day, very similar foods from the soil and sea of the region, featured over and over again, with the chef’s own particular variation. In this particular region, they are famous for their omelets, leg of lamb, and local seafood, most notably mussels, where I think we probably saw at least 1,000 consumed! Mt. Saint-Michel is a magnificent pre-Romanesque church located on a rocky islet in the middle of tidal causeway has for a thousand years accommodated visitors and pilgrims. I have truly never seen anything like it. A promenade along the mountain coastline of a city called Dinar with ancient stone steps leading to private villas overlooking the ocean, was spectacular. What a totally relaxing and lovely spend the weekend. It’s a pleasure how clean and billboard and advertising free everything is!

And watching those oh so sassy and sexy beautiful French women ordering around their nervous husbands and boyfriends trying so hard to please! I love it!