Saturday, October 23, 2010

Just let me get it out of my system

It's not just that France has better bread and coffee (and cheese, and jam, and wine, and pastries, and cider, and chocolate, etc); among the many cultural differences, I am starting to remark some pretty fundamental discrepancies in the two educational systems and the political scene. (WARNING: This post may not be suitable for those who have not previously encountered the nerd in me. Reader discretion is advised.)

Everybody knows that French people like to go on strike. What probably even fewer people know is that for the most part, the strikes are an opportunity to have a big party/ parade in the street, with music and barbecuing and all-around a pretty good time. However, there are some deeply rooted traditions/ habits in the French culture that are strikingly (haha) different from those in American culture. I feel like I have a unique perspective after my experience working in Senator Schumer's office this summer, because I dealt with a lot of constituents and their complaints- I mean opinions. What I noticed right away was that there is no personal barrier to discussing politics with anyone. It is a free, open, unending discussion with anyone on any level of formality; despite the fact that they may seem like they are yelling viciously at each other, the next moment they are joking jovially like nothing has happened. In the United States, I've found that political discussions always turn personal. When has putting one's political views under scrutiny meant putting one's personal conduct under scrutiny? Furthermore, when did "you're a socialist" or "you're just conservative" become the end of an argument, instead of the beginning of a discussion?
In France, as their motto declares, there is more solidarity, more of an "all-for-one" feel to the way the public approaches politics. This probably can be partially attributed to the fact that many industries are much more centralized in France than in the U.S., so that when the government changes something, such as retirement, then many, many employees are affected. But in the U.S., instead of striking, I feel like there is one person and a small group who gets together and expresses their outrage, then there is some behind-closed-doors deal and all of a sudden the issue is over, and no one knows what really just happened. It is undeniable that America has deveoped a culture that is much more focused on the individual, and diversity and the myriad of opportunities available to the individual. I think it is indicative of cultural ideals that have been nurtured for centuries; I do not want to say that one way is better than the other, it just is fascinating to me to see how unspoken values and ideals can produce such a wide variety of cultures.

On the other hand, the educational differences are much more difficult to put your finger on. I've tried to solidify my theories over the past few weeks of classes, but it all started in the first week, during our "intensive language classes". They were supposed to be grammar/ language review, as well as an opportunity to ask questions to native french speakers/parisian inhabitants, though my class not at all the former and almost completely the latter (which was fine by me). We spent hours on "methodology", which basically meant learning how to write a paper all over again. Before I go into those differences, it is important to know that in the French (or at least the Parisian) school system, most schools are public, and the curriculums are all coordinated by the government, which means that you write the same types of papers and learn the same types of things. French high schoolers specialize around age 16 begin preparation for the baccalaureate exam (which is probably functionally the equivalent of the SAT, though it is much more difficult, requires more preparation, and actually tests real knowledge). After the test, there is no culture of choosing/ applying to colleges, and then moving out, going far away, etc. If you live in Paris, you go to the University of Paris, and the school within that that you choose is solely based on what you want to study. You live at home, and you pay probably around $800 per semester. Everyone gets in, you just have to wait in line for a few hours to sign up. Thus, everyone is equally prepared to continue the exact same type of learning they've been doing all their lives.
This makes things difficult for American students, who aren't used to having a set way to write assignments that travels from grade school all the way to graduate school. So we had to learn in one week what French students have been perfecting for 15 years. The structure is very specific, and my "intensive language class" professor was telling us that in larger classes the professors will just read your intro and a bit of the body to make sure the plan that you laid out is being followed, and then they read your conclusion. (for an 8 page paper... geez) A lot of American students are outraged at that thought, because in America you usually get points for ingenuity, creativity, thinking outside the box, and most importantly, for the "quality of your ideas" over the structure of your thoughts. Here, they emphasize having a logical, rigid structure to your paper, in which no idea is out of place, but at the same time that comprehensively covers every issue at stake. Furthermore, the introduction is not where you'll find the "thesis"; the intro is for the question you are answering, and you don't give the answer until the conclusion, where you don't even need a definitive answer/ to pick a side. These students have been thinking this way throughout their entire academic careers, which says to me that what is important in the French education system is very different from what is important in the American system.
So glad you could stick with me throughout all that, and don't worry, next time I'll put up some pretty pictures and only talk about touristy things.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Normandy: Omaha Beach, Pointe du Hoc, and Mont St. Michel







It takes a drive out into the countryside to realize how much you miss it, especially when you've been living in a city for the first time in your life. I think I am lucky to be in Paris, obviously for many reasons, but especially because it is very open and there is a decent amount of green space. Still, nothing beats an open landscape. At times, Normandy reminded me a lot of Central New York: rolling hills, farmland, trees. It reminded me that while I do have a list of big cities to visit, I need to have some breathing room as well.

A trip to Normandy isn't a trip to Normandy without a visit to the D-Day beaches. Omaha Beach and Pointe du Hoc were two major sites of the American attack, and it was a haunting yet inspiring experience to walk these shores. Omaha Beach, I learned, is technically American soil; here you can find many memorials, a visitor center/ museum thing, the beach (obviously) and the cemetery. The white crosses were striking against the green of the grass and the gray sky (it seemed appropriate that it was drizzling and cloudy for this visit). There were thousands overlooking the fateful beach. It made me feel humbled, grateful, and proud. The beach itself is beautiful, which was so odd to me because I didn't think it should look so innocent, so untouched. What struck me about the place was the fact that once the soldiers got to the beach, if they got to the beach, they had to fight their way through a jungle of marsh and brush up a steep hill that took us ten minutes to walk each way. And those soldiers didn't have an asphalt path to guide them.

Pointe du Hoc was even more frightening, because there is no beach: just sheer cliffs. I suppose the American generals wanted to pick places that would surprise the Germans. I wouldn't expect them to attack at this place either. Here looked more to me like an old battle site, because the remains of the german bunkers and machine guns still stood. Even more poignant: the ground was pockmarked with craters, within feet, inches of each other, ten to 20 feet in diameter and almost as deep. Truly haunting and humbling to think of what this place must have looked like 70 years ago.

After a tiring day we spent the night in the village of Granville, in this little hostel for sailors. We didn't get there until 11 pm, so we had no idea what the surrounding area looked like. We woke up the next morning, just before sunrise, to one of the most beautiful sights of the weekend. The hostel was situated right on the coast of this little bay, but you could see the entire ocean (I'm assuming it was the English Channel, but it could have just been the Atlantic). It was dawn, and the sky was this wonderful mix of purple and orange and yellow. I've included a picture because it really was remarkable. It made it all worth getting up at 7 am.

Our last stop for the weekend was Mont St. Michel. If you aren't familiar with this spot, it is a tidal island (a big rock, really) with a really old church/ monastery on top. This place has the strongest tides in the world, meaning low tide is a MASSIVE difference from high tide. It used to be that you could only access the "island" when the tide was out, but recently they have built a permanent road to it from the mainland. What was cool though, among other things, was that the parking lot we parked in is only accessible when the tide is out. Also, surrounding the island and for probably half a mile in front of the island it was just moist sand, that you could walk on (with the help of a tour guide, apparently there is a lot of quick sand that kills people. crazy). But clearly the most amazing thing about this island is that it is essentially a medieval fortress completely preserved. We took a tour of the church/ monastery, which is a combination of Romanesque and Gothic architecture, dating back to an initial construction in the 8th or 9th century. It was a little unfortunate that our guide, Gille, was so intensely focused on the architecture, because he missed a great deal of information about what the rooms were actually used for and how people actually lived in this place. He is a historian, so naturally long-winded and repetitive. Mais, c'est la vie. It was incredibly scenic, with wonderful, expansive views of the ocean and country side and amazing medieval architecture. I've decided that I am going to retire there; no Florida or Arizona for me.

If anybody goes to France, the top two destinations should without a doubt be Paris and Normandy, namely Mont St. Michel. Period.