Monday, May 28, 2007

Hillary equals France

Last post in observance of France Appreciation Month, I promise. The following is a column by Bill Maher that appeared in Newsweek as well as Salon. Say what you will about Maher, he's absolutely dead on here.

[Found the video of this bit as delivered on his show. Since I love embedding YouTube videos I've added it at the bottom of this post. Enjoy.]

New rule: conservatives have to stop rolling their eyes every time they hear the word France. Like just calling something French is the ultimate argument winner. "Aw, you want a health-care system that covers everybody and costs half as much? You mean like they have in France? What's there to say about a country that was too stupid to get on board with our wonderfully conceived and brilliantly executed war in Iraq?"

Earlier this year, the Boston Globe got hold of an internal campaign document from GOP contender Mitt Romney, and a recurring strategy was to tie Democrats to the hated French. It said, in the Machiavellian code of the election huckster, "Hillary equals France," and it envisioned bumper stickers that read FIRST, NOT FRANCE.

Except for one thing: We're not first. America isn't ranked anywhere near first in anything except military might and snotty billionaires. The country that is ranked No. 1 in health care, for example, is France. The World Health Organization ranks America at 37 in the world—not two, or five—37, in between Costa Rica and Slovenia, which are both years away from discovering dentistry. Yet an American politician could not survive if he or she uttered the simple, true statement, "France has a better health-care system than us, and we should steal it." Because here, simply dismissing an idea as French passes for an argument.

John Kerry? Can't vote for him—he looks French. Yeah, as opposed to the other guy, who just looked stupid. I know, if God had wanted us to learn from the Enlightenment, he wouldn't have given us Sean Hannity. And I'm not saying France is better than America. Because I assume you've already figured that out by now. I don't want to be French, I just want to take what's best from the French. Stealing, for your own self-interest.

Republicans should love this idea. Taking what's best from the French: You know who else did that? The Founding Fathers. Hate to sink your toy boat, Fox News, but the Founding Fathers, the ones you say you revere, were children of the French Enlightenment, and fans of it, and they turned it into a musical called the Constitution of the United States. And they did a helluva job, so good it has been said that it was written by geniuses so it could be run by idiots.

But the current administration is putting that to the test. The Founding Fathers were erudite, well-read, European-thinking aristocrats—they would have had nothing in common with, and no use for, an ill-read xenophobic bumpkin like George W. Bush. The American ideas of individuality, religious tolerance and freedom of speech came directly out of the French Enlightenment—but, shhh, don't tell Alabama.

Voltaire wrote "men are born equal" before Jefferson was wise enough to steal it. Countries are like people—they tend to get smarter as they get older. Noted military genius Donald Rumsfeld famously dismissed France as part of Old Europe, but the French are ... what's the word I'm looking for? Oh yeah, "mature." We think they're rude and snobby, but maybe that's because they're talking to us. For example, France just had an election, and people over there approach an election differently. They vote. Eighty-five percent turned out. The only thing 85 percent of Americans ever voted on was Sanjaya.

Maybe the high turnout has something to do with the fact that the French candidates are never asked where they stand on evolution, prayer in school, abortion, stem-cell research or gay marriage. And if the candidate knows about a character in a book other than Jesus, it's not a drawback. There is no Pierre Six-pack who can be fooled by childish wedge issues. And the electorate doesn't vote for the guy they want to have a croissant with. Nor do they care about the candidate's private lives: In the recent race, Ségolène Royal had four kids but never bothered to get married. And she's a socialist.

In America, if a Democrat even thinks you're calling him a liberal he immediately grabs an orange vest and a rifle and heads into the woods to kill something. As for the French conservative candidate, he's married but he and his wife live apart and lead separate lives. They aren't asked about it in the media, and the people are OK with it, for the same reason the people are OK with nude beaches: because they're not a nation of 6-year-olds who scream and giggle if they see pee-pee parts. They have weird ideas about privacy. They think it should be private. In France, everyone has a mistress. Even mistresses have mistresses. To not have a lady on the side says to the voters, "I'm no good at multitasking."

France has its faults—the country has high unemployment, a nasty immigrant problem and all that ridiculous accordion music. But its health care is the best, it's not dependent on Mideast oil, it has the lowest poverty rate and the lowest income-inequality rate among industrialized nations, and it's the greenest, with the lowest carbon dumping and the lowest electricity bill. France has 20,000 miles of railroads that work. We have the trolley at the mall that takes you from Pottery Barn to the Gap. It has bullet trains. We have bullets. France has public intellectuals. We have Dr. Phil. And France invented sex during the day, the ménage à trois, lingerie and the tongue. And the French are not fat. Can't we just admit we could learn something from them?

Maher is the host of HBO's "Real Time With Bill Maher."

© 2007 Newsweek, Inc.



Thursday, May 24, 2007

Ce n'est qu'un au revoir...

Our two weeks in Paris are over, and once again, it was really hard to say goodbye to the city I grew up in.

I love Paris, and really enjoyed it this time around. Our trip was memorable for many reasons: spending time with my parents in their new home, seeing old friends, setting foot on familiar ground, and gorging daily on pain au chocolat and baguettes.

An additional reason would have to be the length of our stay. In contrast to my last few visits where I was only able to stay for one week, or say 4-5 days, I was there for 2 whole weeks and it really made a difference.

Traveling to Europe from the US is definitely more tiring than the other way round. It often takes 2 to 3 days to acclimate yourself to the time difference alone. So if you're scheduling a vacation in Europe, don't shortchange yourself. Do it right. With two weeks in my pocket, I was really able to take it all in.

A couple of observations:
# 1: Paris is (even more) beautiful. When you grow up in a fabled city like Paris, you tend to overlook its beauty. Even the little things, like how the names of the architect's are usually etched on the front of buildings, or how the street signs have one or two lines explaining what or who the street is named after. This time around, it felt like Paris emanated even more elegance, its streets and avenues being more picturesque. A diamond to the mayor, Bertrand Delanoë, who decided to make the capital a little more green by delineating more travel lanes for cyclists and pedestrians. Coal to French drivers, who still drive like psychopaths.

# 2: Paris is (even more) expensive. Coming from the US, I felt like I was slumming in the Euro zone this time around. Being unemployed definitely put that extra hurt in the equation but still... it's gotten mad expensive. I remember the days when the Euro felt like play money: all those delightful bills of different sizes and colours... those coins revendicating their national origins on one side, while flexing the European motif on the other... and that highly favourable exchange rate. This time around, I simply yearned for the days when the currency was on parity with the dollar. We got killed out there: 2 coffees? 7 euros ($9!). 4 drinks? 48 euros ($65!). At least when you pay double digits for a drink in the US you get some alcohol. In Paris, we got some watered down ish while the people next to us constantly blew cigarette smoke in our face (thankfully that will all change come February when the smoking ban takes effect... hopefully, they'll ban crappy drinks too!).

# 3: Paris is full of (even more) loaded people. For every Smart Car I saw on the street, there was a Bentley Continental GT or an Aston Martin. I kid you not. One night, we went out to dinner at Le Bistro du 7eme and parked underground in a public garage. On our way back to our car, we must have pressed the B for b@ller button on the elevator because we were let out on this ridiculous level that looked like an airstrip. There, we saw 4 Astons, a Carrera GT, 2 Scagliettis, 2 Maranellos, and a colorful assortment of Modenas. And that was only on the left hand side of the elevator exit... I felt like I was in my virtual garage in Project Gotham 2 (old school xbox... I know) except that this time, everything was in ultra-high-definition salivation-inducing reality. To the uninitiated, the cars listed above roughly totaled a gazillion dollars, or 1,937,000 Kudos points in video game parlance. Needless to say, I pissed myself out of excitement... just a little bit, like Fergie.

#4: Paris is (even more) historic. No revelations or epiphanies here, but one night, we were all invited for drinks by an acquaintance who lives in Voltaire's old house along the river. I shit you not. To think that we were in the actual salon where Voltaire (no relation to Voltron), Thomas Jefferson, and other luminaries stood–including now my father with his glass of scotch in hand–was truly inspiring.


Notwithstanding these casual observations, it also felt overall like there was a different air about Paris and France this time. Perhaps because our visit came right on the heels of a historic presidential election, it felt like change was coming and imminent.

If, under Sarkozy, France starts rewarding hard work and entrepreneurs like the US does, I wouldn't mind returning there post-MBA. Hopefully it won't entail working at Starbucks, but I'll take what I can get.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Une aberration

While getting reacquainted with the streets of Paris yesterday I saw something that made me stop dead in my tracks: Starbucks. In Paris.

I guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise. Starbucks, after all has been in France since early 2004, but this was the first time I actually came face to face with it in Paris. And it was eerie.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a cup of coffee just as much as anybody else, even when it's as overpriced and acrid at times like at Starbucks. Starbucks, above all, is known for selling a delightful consumer experience, and has been extremely successful at that. I can't say I've tried the 18-months-in-the-making Dulce de Leche Latte quite yet, but I'm a sucker for a good Caffè Mocha. Sometimes–I admit–I even go to Starbucks to order a short cappuccino, just to see the reaction on the barrista's face when I utterly blow their mind.

But there was something distinctly peculiar with seeing yet another American commercial monolith ensconce itself in France, moreover, in a niche market that common wisdom would deem quite impenetrable. It was like when I first saw McDonald's in India. Totally counter-intuitive.

Yet, there they were. Customers happily enjoying their Starbucks coffee... including my brother, sister-in-law and wife. I did what any other Frenchman would do in that situation: I stood outside, pouting in their general direction.

Don't get me wrong. I consider myself an enlightened individual. I believe in, and totally enjoy the fruits of American exceptionalism. But I'm not going to lie. Starbucks in Paris is an aberration. And I say this with a straight face, even after finally finishing my copy of the The World Is Flat on the plane ride to France:

Starbucks' coffee-to-go model in France goes against the cultural grain of an entire nation where coffee is a state-of-being, usually served by moody waiters at a zinc bar or on a street corner. Prendre un café is something you do while seated... and you dutifully go through the motions of it all–even if you have pressing matters to attend to. What's 15 minutes out of 35 hours, anyway??

But here's the thing. Starbucks could very well supplant France's coffee culture in this era of globalization. Why? Because that day, amidst the patrons quietly sipping their Starbucks concoctions, was a group of French teenagers gathered around one of their friends doing his very best rendition of Justin Timberlake's My Love. His French accent naturally broke out after the falsetto (as mine usually does after mine), but the evidence was right there. If JT can make it across the Atlantic, Starbucks has it easy.

Indubitably.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

Home




Paris... it's been too long.