Strike Watch

There are some "movements sociaux" = strike on the northern branch of the Transilien, the train that moves passengers around l'Ile de Paris.

More customer service -the SNCF-don't get me started.

This is just the beginning of what will be several posts, or one very long one.

I was just invited to the country this weekend -which would entail a drive from a place I know, an hour train out of Paris and a place I know how to find by looking at the 'Transilien'. It also brings me into my beloved Gare Montparnasse, a mere 5 minute jaunt home.

For this extra excursion however, I will have to take the train from Dieppe (a new departure city) to a different train station across Paris - the Gare St. Lazare. Paris has six train stations - Gare du Nord, Gare de l'Est, Gare du Lyon, Gare d'Austerlitz, Gare Montparnasse, and Gare St. Lazare. This is not counting the Gare d'Orsay, now a museum.

With the internet, this should be easy, right? You go to SNCF (whatever that means), type in the departure and arrival cities, and voila, right?

But nooooooo. You are meant to know which service you will be traveling on. And without a handy glossary. Is it a TER, a Transilien, the TGV ( I doubt that one), iDTGV ( a new way to travel, sounds scary enough), or FRET, if you want to travel in baggage? Are the French just born with this innate knowledge?

Since I am clueless, I figure the Voyages-SNCF link will do the trick. But it is a half an hour later and I still don't have the right departure city. I've sent an aggrieved email to my host begging for help.

And a lovely week-end in the country turns into more stress...

Customer service France Telecom/Orange style

My good friend Eric now has three new cellphones with two different numbers.

This was never his intent. He went to France Telecom/Orange to buy the new Blackberry, to eliminate the need to carry around telephone, agenda, and camera. This operation took about 2 days (thanks to generally inattentive and unknowledgeable salespeople, which I can imagine, having already tried to buy a Blackberry through SFR last year, to no avail.)

It became so complicated and expensive, that he just gave up and signed on for a new subscription, complete with new number. (I know I don't have to describe the horror of having to get everyone from the old phone transferred to the new phone, as well as using the new number).

The glitch was that Eric arrived home, he realized that his new super-duper gadget DID NOT HAVE A CAMERA. For a man making his living turning over furniture and objets d'art, a camera is one of those indispensable features he is not willing to give up.

No problem, he says to himself, 'I'll just look up the number, work it out with the salesperson and send my assistant to exchange it tomorrow.' This is where it got tricky. France Orange, A TELEPHONE/COMMUNICATION COMPANY, has NO LISTED TELEPHONE NUMBER for the store. That's right, if you want to complain, you have to go back and do it in person.

They certainly know what they are doing. I have heard Eric tell this story several times, and each time, those listening just look at him sympathetically, knowingly- THEY HAVE EACH AND ALL HAD THE SAME EXPERIENCE. They all had to return to the shop to complain about one problem or another. No wonder France Orange won't list their number-too many complaints to handle. Isn't it just a little too ironic that a company in the business of providing phone numbers for others has no way to be contacted by phone?

Which is probably why this YouTube video Brenda calls Becky has a lot of fans in France.

Last chapter- Eric is quite happy with his Blackberry minus camera, as he is now the proud owner of a separate camera. What we will settle and be delighted with, when the going gets tough...

Chocolate Truffle Factoid

Was flagging by the end of the day yesterday - and understandably, from walking around Paris with an indefatigable Eveready bunny in the flesh- my dear friend Beth. So I ducked into Jeff de Bruges to buy some chocolates for a dinner party and for a much-needed bitter cocoa boost. This, in the form of one of my faves-chocolate truffles. No yucky milk chocolate for this girl-bleagh.

However, much to my dismay, I was having trouble locating the truffles. And surprise! to discover that there is actually a season for truffles-as they have to be refrigerated at lower temperatures, they are not made before November.

Now that I think about it, isn't that silly? My aunt in Philadelphia could be forgiven for believing that the French don't use ice cubes because they don't yet have refrigeration.

And come to think of it, global warming does not bode well for truffles. On the other hand, if France continues to have summers like this past one, they will be serving truffles on the beaches of St. Tropez in August.

And where is Marie Antoinette when we need her, "Let them eat chocolate truffles-yeah!'

But wait, there's more. For those of you who think (like me) one of the all-time great food combos is ginger confit with a thick coating of bitter chocolate, this also turns out to be seasonal, but with no particular rhyme or reason. If you have a year-round craving for choco/ginger, you would find yourself on a patchwork hop through Paris, Jeff de Bruges around St. Valentine's Day, and Jadis et Gourmande (in my mind, one of the best chocolatiers of Paris), makes them available for Easter.

Umm, does anyone see an opportunity here?

Fighting progress

France is a country that will resist change, even when being led by a new dynamic president which the French themselves are responsible for electing.

The flak that Sarko receives for being young and dynamic is puzzling, compared to the phlegmatic Chirac. Sarko is criticized for jogging instead of walking, and each positive proposition is met with an outbreak of criticism, reasons why it can't or shouldn't be done, and fear-what will he do next? He is moving so fast that it is certainly hard to predict.

Predictably, the hard-core Francophones are still fighting the adoption of foreign words- predominantly English words, now thanks to the web, the influx even greater, a battle they will lose and has kept me giggling for the 15 years I have been observing and trying to understand this country.

They are at it again, proposing that citizens replace 'web' with 'toile', as in spider's web'toile d'araignée', and determined to spell blog with an e, bloge.
Catchy, isn't it? Harumph.

Instead of fighting the wave, why don't these naysayers just put their energy into going with the flow and creating new ideas, new applications, be leaders instead of begrudging followers?

I am definitely noticing more and more people living on the street. Not sure if it is because of the relatively comfortable temperatures, the open borders, but I see a defnite increase in bodies huddled in building entrances, even since June, and find it curious, especially in a country so renowned for its social services.

However, they are outnumbered about 5 to 1 by the amount of security and police one passes daily. I hear this is due to the amount of rising terrorist threats, thanks to Sarko's growing friendship with Prez Bush.

Un summer-like return to Paris in August

If you arrived at CDG Airport this morning, you would have witnessed unprecedented lines snaking from arrival gates to the immigration checkpoints. I've never seen lines this long in France. Once upon a time, I remember seeing similar lines for foreigners at JFK, but that was before Homeland Security managed to scare any willing tourists off to more distant lands. But NEVER in France, where the border police desultorily glance at passports as arrivals slip through.

I thought I had timed my return before 'la grande rentree' but hadn't counted on this year's culprit- the bad weather. August, and most of July, has been so un-estivale, that vacationers have literally thrown in the towel, or left it on the beach if they even made it that far, to come home early.

Fortunately, my brand new hip enables me to order a wheelchair, bypassing the thick crowd of grumbling impatient travelers not moving forward in the line, directly to my waiting (!)luggage and empty taxi stand. I warn the taxi manager to start lining up the taxis for the inevitable crunch that is about to hit, as nothing irritates me more than seeing mash-up of taxis sitting in a holding pit below while we wait for their far too leisurely emergence from taxi purgatory.

It's 65 degrees, overcast, and drizzly and I see alot of glum faces heading back to the capital.

This being France, the inclement weather has had its impact on the eternal discussion - gastronomy. Reports state that the bad weather has ice cream and soft drink vendors complaining about the lack of commerce. Tourists have traded their usual desire for salads and frosty drinks for comfort food-warming soups and legumes, finished off with copious helpings of chocolate, whose sales have surged-no doubt to help depressed vacationers up their dopamine levels from the dismaying weather.

At least, there's still a few weeks left of Paris Plage....although someone should tell the weatherman, because today looks like another drizzler.