mercredi 25 avril 2012

MORE DESPRESSING SH_T TO SHARE WITH YOU!

This time courtesy of the Swedes...

http://abagond.wordpress.com/2012/04/23/clitoridectomy-cake

This leaves me speechless to say the least.

I promise some levity on the next post!



lundi 19 mars 2012

Advice For Expats Everywhere.....


Uncle Remus and Friends (goole images)
"Boy,


what ever you is and where ever you is,


don’t be what you ain’t,


because when you is what you ain’t,


you isn’t."

 
~Uncle Remus

...and I’m sure you all know who I’m referring to!


dimanche 4 mars 2012

The Fresh Prince, Sammi and Election 2012!


We tend to rent or buy our French movies because we find it rather penible to sit through a French movie in the theater.  When one considers the various regional accents, dialects and all, I usually use the hearing impaired mode as well, to help me along.


Sometimes a French movie plot line vaguely echoes a popular American movie or television series.  When this happens, it is an absolute guarantee that I will see the movie.  I am never disappointed by the fact that there is always a wildly divergent approach to what on initial impact would seem a similar issue.  One such movie is Agathe Clery, which most Americans could assume is a take on American filmmaker Melvin Van Peebles' Watermelon Man. 


Another example of this Gallic wink towards American issues is the film I saw recently, Neuilly Sa Mère.


Years ago there was a popular television series, called Fresh Prince of Bel Air.  Actor,Will Smith, starred as a teenager growing up in the "hood" of Philadelphia.  After a scary gang rumble, his mother sends him off to live with his aunt and uncle who live in the wealthy town of Bel Air in California.

In Neuilly Sa Mère, adorable young actor, Samy Saghir, stars in this hilarious film about the pretentions and dysfunctions of the bourgeoisie...or the upper classes...I still have trouble with the distinctions, here in this Socialist country.  After all, I'm from a Capitalist one, where the classes, these days are ironically rather...flou...in comparison.

Fourteen-year-old Sami, lives with his father and mother in a housing project in a working class and immigrant neighborhood in Chalon-sur-Saône in the Burgundy region of France.  Unlike the American Fresh Prince, whose old neighborhood is ruled by gang violence, through Sammi's eyes, his "hood" is a vertitable multi-cultural and ethnic paradise...Kumbaya and such... you see.

His father drops dead of a heart attack as a result of over-identifying with and over-reacting to a Soccer game.  His mother is forced to take a job on a boat, so she sends Sammi to her sister and husband who live in the affluent Paris suburb of  Neuilly.

Hence the title.

Oh, by the way, Sami and his family are Beur...North African Moslims.

I'm not quite clear whether both Sammi's aunt and uncle are both Beur or in an intercultural/ racial marriage. Perhaps I missed it in my translation, since it is obvious that his aunt is North African, but his uncle, you see, is a Pork distributor.

The most amusing aspect of this tale, when I compare it to The Fresh Prince, is that while Will Smith's character arrogantly flaunts his ghetto savvy and lords over the naive, marerialistic and self-centered members of his extended family, Sammi encounters bullys and thugs of proportions previously unimaginable in the exclusive enclave of some of France's future leaders.  His young cousin,Charles, with whom he must share a bedroom, is Right Wing, has political ambions and aspires to become President of the Republic.

Get it?

If you should choose to accept the challenge of watching French political satire, I'm sure you'll agree that the political references in this story are not exactly all that nuanced.  Even an Anglophone foreigner like myself would get the joke...I mean...message.

It'll make you look up the backgrounds of our 2012  Presidential candidates, which is never...ever a bad idea.

This is why I  read "Dreams From My Father" before I decided to cast my vote for President Obama.


No surprises.  No regrets. 

mercredi 22 février 2012

POACHING FOR EUROS: Part 1





First, I would like to emphasize that this Post is targeted specifically to American women in France, and those looking to live in France…actually to American woman everywhere.

Not long ago, I was having lunch with some American women who happened to be married to or living with French men. They were exploring the reasons for the difficulties in developing friendships with French women.

Reasons explored ranged from “they tend to make their friends in elementary school» or “they are so busy with their raising their families and cooking gourmet meals for their men, or “they are not as liberated as American women…they close their eyes to their men’s affairs” to “I am so intimidated by those stylish French women and their chic, black ensembles.”

It made me reflect on the numerous books on the allure of French women published by Anglophones.

After indulging in a conversation and theories that went nowhere, we changed the subject, finished lunch after which I returned home to the comfy familiarity of my American husband.

Later that day, I looked up books on Amazon.fr to see whether French women extolled the feistiness, progressive and liberated openness… or anything else positive at all…about the American woman.

I found nothing!

Nothing titled, “Unlock Your Inner American Woman”, “Those Lucky American Chicks Who Mostly Sleep Alone,” or even “The American Amazons of the Women’s Liberation Movement: What On Earth Is Their Secret?”.

Again...absolutely nothing.


(Perhaps some of you out there might be able to name a few for me). It simply appeared to me that here was no reciprocal interest between French and American women, regarding anything! Not even PMS.

Over the years I’ve met French women who expressed in subtle and diplomatic ways a curiosity of what the attraction American women had for their lifestyles…French cuisine and politesse, notwithstanding… and their men, in particular. It seemed to them that we, American women, had access to more wealth, comforts and gorgeous men of such diversity that it was globally enviable. Or so they said.

I kid you not!

It’s no wonder that thousands upon thousands of French women every year clandestinely flock to Greenwich (Village), San Francisco and Disney World in search of the American Woman’s secret allure and wonderful quality of life!

But then…I digress…

Although, I can personally understand the unpredictable power of love and the unpredictability of where one might unearth a lover or mate in this big wide world, I can also understand the ominous consequences of choosing a life partner from a tribe whose women are an unknown entity to a newcomer.

When a woman enters a foreign culture she instantly acquires the status of the women of that culture. Remember that.

On impact, I might look like a poacher, myself. However, my girly- girl posse, prior to marriage and for most of my life, actually, consisted of primarily members of the tribe among whom I eventually found my mate. It was inevitable that I would end up marrying one of the members of their family. I had been acculturated by the population of that particular tribe already and was quite familiar with the nuances of the male-female relationships within that tribe.

My advice to my American sisters: Do some serious research. Put romantic notions on the back burner...especially after your sweet sixteenth birthday. Read up on American foreign relations… think twice before poaching. It could prove hazardous to one's emotional, financial, social and spiritual well being.

Of course, that is unless one is a War or Mail Order Bride. Then that’s a whole ‘nother story…n’est-ce-pas?











mercredi 8 février 2012

"P.C." and the Global Community


It's kind of a cloudy day down here in the South, today.  I'm not feeling too productive, so I've just been lazing around, surfing the net.

I just came across the most amusing images of  "mappying sterotypes".

I’ve always considered my self a bit of an ethnic connoisseur.  Any person who has had the privilege of living among others in foreign countries should find it quite easy to distinguish between an ethnic connoisseur and a racist clod.

An ethnic connoisseur is merely a keen and well informed social observer.

A clod is the one who hides behind pretentions of “political correctness” while rancid bones of negativity issue from his lips landing in everyone’s plate at the dinner party

You all know who I’m talking about, I’m sure.

Anyway, check these out.   For a clearer view go to   alphadesigner.com/mapping stereotypes.
Europe according to the French
Europe according to the Greeks
Europe According to the Americans
The World according to the Americans

The World According to Israel:





and my all time favorite...
Europe according to the Vatican!
Fun, right?

On target, you think?

Nevertheless, let me offer you a piece of diplomatic advice on stereotyping: Don’t dish it if you can’t take it!

dimanche 29 janvier 2012

ELECTION 2012: France


Sometimes, I feel a little queezie.  Especially on days when I allow my self to contemplate too profoundly on my life, here,  in France.  I start wondering what will become of us (my husband and I) since we have placed our destiny in the hands of these people:
  

 Nevertheless, each time I slip into a mood of apprehension in this regard, I run across a statement  like this in the media from the United States:



"But I'm telling you that I'm worried and very, very concerned today when a mother, speaking about her son being in jail, says, 'I'm happy he's in a safe place.'  You cannot take that casually!"
                                                              ~Bill Cosby
                                                                in an interview with the newspaper, The Root




Maybe I’ll just call it  day and watch a French movie.  I’ll tell you all about it later.

What movie, you ask?

Filmmaker, Gabiel Jullien-Laferrière's, Neuilly Sa Mère.



A bientôt!


dimanche 1 janvier 2012

Bonne Année 2012 à Tous!!!



“ New years day…now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions.  Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.”
                                             ~Mark Twain