For those of you in North America (who have more than likely not been following French politics) - the second (and deciding) round of the French presidential elections was held today. The run-off pitted incumbent president Nicolas Sarkozy against Socialist party candidate François Hollande. It's been interesting following the politics here, as left and right are not nearly as clear-cut as in the States. This election was fought along many lines, including but not limited to the economy, immigration, and social policies. As we couldn't vote, we were only able to observe as the French citizens cast their ballots that would determine our future here alongside theirs. Of primary interest to us was the impact that the next president would have on our lives in France: right to immigration, right to marriage, right to both legally parent our kids.
And tonight, in our own quiet apartment, with little F's head resting on my shoulder, far from the parties in Paris and around the country, we celebrated. A victory by François Hollande means, for us, the possibility of our marriage being recognized and of my parental rights being upheld. For countless gay and lesbian French couples who did not have the privilege of marrying abroad, this victory may mean the right to marry, to seek reproductive assistance, and to build their own families. Of course, time will tell - but as I sit here with my glass of cider, listening to Hollande give his victory speech, I am filled with a hope similar to what I felt on the night I watched Obama win the presidency. While I feel that in the States we still have a long way to go, I am hopeful that relatively rapid social change can take place here. In a pre-election document addressed to the LGBT wing of the Socialist party, Hollande lays out pretty straightforward answers to some questions that carry enormous weight for my family, and for other GLBT families and individuals:
(Note: these are my translations, and I have shortened the answers for clarity - the original text can be found at
http://ddata.over-blog.com/xxxyyy/0/46/85/86/questions_HES_reponses_FH_2012.pdf)
Will you open civil marriage to all couples? If yes, when? "Yes, in 2012."
Will you open second-parent adoption to same-sex couples? If yes, when? "Yes, in 2012."
Will you open assisted reproduction to all women - by anonymous donor or by known donor - without discrimination? If yes, when? "Yes, starting in 2012."
Will you align legislative and legal texts so that "gender identity" is equivalent to "sexual orientation" when it comes to discrimination or violence? If yes, when? "Yes, in 2012."
Will you end the exclusion of gays from blood donation? If yes, when? "Yes, starting in 2012, because it is a discrimination that has no scientific justification, and rests upon the confusion between 'sexual orientation' and 'sexual behavior'."
No president has been, is, or ever will be a perfect candidate. But tonight, when it comes to my family, Hollande comes pretty damn close. And tonight, pretty damn close is good enough for me.
- E
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Little Guy needs a Speedo.
I took the little guy to the swimming pool here a couple of days ago. Actually, I should say swimming pools - our local sports center is HUGE and includes 3 pools (50m olympic, 25m, and kiddie pool). We only tried out the kiddie pool, but I am looking forward to getting into the larger pool for some laps, one of these days.
The little one LOVED the community pool in Portland (and who wouldn't? It had a 3 story waterslide!) but it has sadly been 6 months. In toddler time, this basically means we are starting from scratch in terms of comfort-level in the water. We definitely need to get back more regularly.
As with every adventure here, though, things at the pool are a little different. First off, the changing rooms. As I walked in, I noticed that everyone was actually obeying the rule to take your shoes off before going into the locker room. Fair enough. I sat down, took both of our shoes off, and then proceeded to walk into the locker room... through the 4 inch deep, 5 foot wide moat of pool water that separates the locker room from the entry area. These guys aren't kidding about taking off your shoes. I didn't think to look down, so the little one and I had 4 soggy inches of pants apiece. Ah well, chalk it up to inexperience. Then, I enter the locker room and see a dad and his son. Wrong locker room? Nope. Coed! The locker room is coed, but ringed by individual changing cubicles. Which is logical, really, because the pool is coed. Why should the space where you store your clothes be any different? But coming from a country where I have never, ever seen a coed locker room, again, it just takes a little mental readjustment. Oh well. I put the little guy in his swim diaper and trunks, and off we went, through another 4 inch, 5 foot moat of pool water to get out to the pool deck.
Then, into the pool. The little guy was content hanging out on the first step (in 3 inches of water) for the first 15 minutes. After a couple of minutes, the lifeguard approached me and told me she was very sorry, but that only bathing suits could be worn in the pool and that they do not allow boxer shorts. Boxer shorts? It took me a second to realize she was referring to the little guy's swim trunks. Then it dawned on me that every single guy there, from 2 to 99, was wearing a speedo. No exceptions. I explained to the lifeguard that this actually was a bathing suit. She was astounded. "I've never seen one of these before," she said. "What country is it from?"
Since I don't want to have to explain this to every lifeguard at every city pool, I guess we'll be getting the little guy a speedo.
- E
The little one LOVED the community pool in Portland (and who wouldn't? It had a 3 story waterslide!) but it has sadly been 6 months. In toddler time, this basically means we are starting from scratch in terms of comfort-level in the water. We definitely need to get back more regularly.
As with every adventure here, though, things at the pool are a little different. First off, the changing rooms. As I walked in, I noticed that everyone was actually obeying the rule to take your shoes off before going into the locker room. Fair enough. I sat down, took both of our shoes off, and then proceeded to walk into the locker room... through the 4 inch deep, 5 foot wide moat of pool water that separates the locker room from the entry area. These guys aren't kidding about taking off your shoes. I didn't think to look down, so the little one and I had 4 soggy inches of pants apiece. Ah well, chalk it up to inexperience. Then, I enter the locker room and see a dad and his son. Wrong locker room? Nope. Coed! The locker room is coed, but ringed by individual changing cubicles. Which is logical, really, because the pool is coed. Why should the space where you store your clothes be any different? But coming from a country where I have never, ever seen a coed locker room, again, it just takes a little mental readjustment. Oh well. I put the little guy in his swim diaper and trunks, and off we went, through another 4 inch, 5 foot moat of pool water to get out to the pool deck.
Then, into the pool. The little guy was content hanging out on the first step (in 3 inches of water) for the first 15 minutes. After a couple of minutes, the lifeguard approached me and told me she was very sorry, but that only bathing suits could be worn in the pool and that they do not allow boxer shorts. Boxer shorts? It took me a second to realize she was referring to the little guy's swim trunks. Then it dawned on me that every single guy there, from 2 to 99, was wearing a speedo. No exceptions. I explained to the lifeguard that this actually was a bathing suit. She was astounded. "I've never seen one of these before," she said. "What country is it from?"
Since I don't want to have to explain this to every lifeguard at every city pool, I guess we'll be getting the little guy a speedo.
- E
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Playgrounds and Parakeets
Blog post double header today - here is the first post of (hopefully) two, provided that the little one (well, actually, now our big one!) stays napping.
On that note: I was refering to our toddler son as the "little one" on the blog, but now he has competition in the form of our littlest man, who is already just over one week old! Ideas for blog pseudonyms for both boys are welcome!
In any case, I have been meaning to post about the playgrounds for a while now and just have not gotten around to it. Playgrounds are everywhere here, though some of them consist only of a single slide or swingset nestled beside an RER stop. We are lucky to have at least 5 playgrounds within walking distance here, set between the apartment buildings in the neighborhood. Our neighborhood was built in the 1970s in response to the massive influx of immigrants to the Paris region, many of them Algerians who settled in France after Algerian independence. The apartment buildings were clearly built hastily to accommodate the swelling population, and they are definitely not the gorgeous Art Deco buildings of Paris. Instead, they are squat concrete rectangles with zero embellishments or personality. The plus, though, is that in the spaces between buildings, small parks have emerged, with greenery and playgrounds in between nearly every apartment complex. These parks are maintained by the city and open to all, and are generally in pretty good condition. While the park below is actually in Paris, it gives you a good idea of the size of playgrounds here (this would be considered large-ish):
What cracks me up about these parks (and the French culture in general) is how incredibly rules-oriented and safety-conscious they are. Posted in every playground is a list of rules (and a long list at that). The playing surface is typically made of shock-absorbent rubber. Even funnier than the rules are the individual plaques that adorn each piece of playground equipment:
Each piece of equipment has a designated age range - both a minimum and a maximum age. And kids are aware of this, too. A couple of weeks ago I was supervising the little one as he (gasp!) played on a structure suitable for kids age 4 and up. A little boy no older than 5 came up to me and, with a worried look on his face, told me that the little guy should not be playing on this piece of equipment, because he could fall and hurt himself. I thanked the little boy and told him that it was ok, that I was there to watch him, and that this is how he would learn what he was comfortable with. Clearly, the little boy had never heard this particular brand of logic, as he just stared at me, puzzled.
Now, the above is NOT meant to imply that French parents are all overprotective or that the kids will grow up not knowing how to take calculated risks. There is actually a lot of nice logic to this layout. Parents can allow their kids some freedom on the age-appropriate equipment with little chance of injury. Kids can play independently without their parents hovering over them. This is often the case, as many parents spend their playground time sitting on the park benches that ring the playground, while the kids run around as they please. It is totally different than our playground experiences with toddlers in Portland, where parents were almost always integrally involved as their kids explored the park. I see pros and cons to both extremes, yet it is interesting to note the prevalent attitude in each locale.
If you have read this far, you are probably wondering where the parakeets tie in. There is a link, I promise. When my mother was visiting last month, she came in from playing with the little one and told L that she thought she had seen a lime green parakeet in a tree. It snows here, which is hardly the ideal environment for these birds, so we assumed she had seen something different. A few days later, though, our neighbor asked me if I had seen the parakeets yet. Parakeets? Yes, he told me, there is a whole flock of them that live here, out in the wild. No one knows if they were initially just a couple of released pets or if they came from elsewhere as stowaways, but they were here. And ever since then I have been scouring the parks for them, to no avail. But last week, when I was walking the dogs through the nearest park early in the morning after a mostly sleepless night full of newborn diaper changes, I heard one, then two, then lots of parakeets chattering. I looked up to see a flock of two dozen parakeets, some lime green, some sage green. Two dozen! So they do exist. I will try to take a picture for next time.
Ok, on to post number two. Stay tuned!
- E
On that note: I was refering to our toddler son as the "little one" on the blog, but now he has competition in the form of our littlest man, who is already just over one week old! Ideas for blog pseudonyms for both boys are welcome!
In any case, I have been meaning to post about the playgrounds for a while now and just have not gotten around to it. Playgrounds are everywhere here, though some of them consist only of a single slide or swingset nestled beside an RER stop. We are lucky to have at least 5 playgrounds within walking distance here, set between the apartment buildings in the neighborhood. Our neighborhood was built in the 1970s in response to the massive influx of immigrants to the Paris region, many of them Algerians who settled in France after Algerian independence. The apartment buildings were clearly built hastily to accommodate the swelling population, and they are definitely not the gorgeous Art Deco buildings of Paris. Instead, they are squat concrete rectangles with zero embellishments or personality. The plus, though, is that in the spaces between buildings, small parks have emerged, with greenery and playgrounds in between nearly every apartment complex. These parks are maintained by the city and open to all, and are generally in pretty good condition. While the park below is actually in Paris, it gives you a good idea of the size of playgrounds here (this would be considered large-ish):
What cracks me up about these parks (and the French culture in general) is how incredibly rules-oriented and safety-conscious they are. Posted in every playground is a list of rules (and a long list at that). The playing surface is typically made of shock-absorbent rubber. Even funnier than the rules are the individual plaques that adorn each piece of playground equipment:
Each piece of equipment has a designated age range - both a minimum and a maximum age. And kids are aware of this, too. A couple of weeks ago I was supervising the little one as he (gasp!) played on a structure suitable for kids age 4 and up. A little boy no older than 5 came up to me and, with a worried look on his face, told me that the little guy should not be playing on this piece of equipment, because he could fall and hurt himself. I thanked the little boy and told him that it was ok, that I was there to watch him, and that this is how he would learn what he was comfortable with. Clearly, the little boy had never heard this particular brand of logic, as he just stared at me, puzzled.
Now, the above is NOT meant to imply that French parents are all overprotective or that the kids will grow up not knowing how to take calculated risks. There is actually a lot of nice logic to this layout. Parents can allow their kids some freedom on the age-appropriate equipment with little chance of injury. Kids can play independently without their parents hovering over them. This is often the case, as many parents spend their playground time sitting on the park benches that ring the playground, while the kids run around as they please. It is totally different than our playground experiences with toddlers in Portland, where parents were almost always integrally involved as their kids explored the park. I see pros and cons to both extremes, yet it is interesting to note the prevalent attitude in each locale.
If you have read this far, you are probably wondering where the parakeets tie in. There is a link, I promise. When my mother was visiting last month, she came in from playing with the little one and told L that she thought she had seen a lime green parakeet in a tree. It snows here, which is hardly the ideal environment for these birds, so we assumed she had seen something different. A few days later, though, our neighbor asked me if I had seen the parakeets yet. Parakeets? Yes, he told me, there is a whole flock of them that live here, out in the wild. No one knows if they were initially just a couple of released pets or if they came from elsewhere as stowaways, but they were here. And ever since then I have been scouring the parks for them, to no avail. But last week, when I was walking the dogs through the nearest park early in the morning after a mostly sleepless night full of newborn diaper changes, I heard one, then two, then lots of parakeets chattering. I looked up to see a flock of two dozen parakeets, some lime green, some sage green. Two dozen! So they do exist. I will try to take a picture for next time.
Ok, on to post number two. Stay tuned!
- E
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Anyone? ... Anyone? ...Bueller? ...
Ok, pop quiz. Name the movie/show/product/event associated with the following quotes:
"Car!..."
"Car!"
"Game off!''
"Game off!"
...
"Game on!"
"Game on!"
"Did I do that???"
"My mama always said life was like a box of chocolates..."
"Hasta la vista, baby."
"Are you crying? Are you crying? There's no crying in baseball!"
"D'oh!"
"Wardrobe malfunction."
I could go on, but you probably get the picture. References to pop culture are so ingrained into our daily lives that we can recognize many movie lines even in the complete absence of context (evidence? see above). We use them to relate to people, to lighten a tense situation, to relate one scenario to another. We use them unconsciously, and this fact was totally lost on me until we moved to a country for which I have absolutely no cultural references. This essentially means that both L and I are complete French Pop Culture virgins, stepping out of the back woods into a civilization that we do not recognize.
I've mentioned this to colleagues, who come up with lists of movies that L and I need to rent, but the reality is that making up 30-plus years of acquired pop culture knowledge is damn near impossible. The practical result of this in my daily life is that for months now, I have been enjoying some of my co-workers' random comments or actions and thinking to myself how nice it is to work with such delightfully quirky people - only to find out that the delightfully random comments are actually movie quotes (or, even worse, quotes from TV commercials!). Boo-urns (See? There's another one for you).
It reminds me of a story I heard on This American Life (I listen obsessively. And you should, too) where a woman recounts this silly song her dad used to sing to her every day. When she gets to college she randomly sees an old movie ("The Jerk" with Steve Martin) and is utterly crushed that her dad's quirky song is totally lifted right from this movie. It's way better for you to listen to it youself:
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/play_full.php?play=438&act=3
So where does one begin? Should we press rewind and start with the classic 80s coming-of-age movies? Apparently, here, that would start with a film called La Boum, but even following the plotlines via wikipedia (http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Boum) has left me exhausted. Should we forget the past and just start fresh with the latest and greatest in French pop culture? Even thinking through all of this is daunting. Perhaps we should throw in the towel and just continue watching Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice via itunes...
-E
"Car!..."
"Car!"
"Game off!''
"Game off!"
...
"Game on!"
"Game on!"
"Did I do that???"
"My mama always said life was like a box of chocolates..."
"Hasta la vista, baby."
"Are you crying? Are you crying? There's no crying in baseball!"
"D'oh!"
"Wardrobe malfunction."
I could go on, but you probably get the picture. References to pop culture are so ingrained into our daily lives that we can recognize many movie lines even in the complete absence of context (evidence? see above). We use them to relate to people, to lighten a tense situation, to relate one scenario to another. We use them unconsciously, and this fact was totally lost on me until we moved to a country for which I have absolutely no cultural references. This essentially means that both L and I are complete French Pop Culture virgins, stepping out of the back woods into a civilization that we do not recognize.
I've mentioned this to colleagues, who come up with lists of movies that L and I need to rent, but the reality is that making up 30-plus years of acquired pop culture knowledge is damn near impossible. The practical result of this in my daily life is that for months now, I have been enjoying some of my co-workers' random comments or actions and thinking to myself how nice it is to work with such delightfully quirky people - only to find out that the delightfully random comments are actually movie quotes (or, even worse, quotes from TV commercials!). Boo-urns (See? There's another one for you).
It reminds me of a story I heard on This American Life (I listen obsessively. And you should, too) where a woman recounts this silly song her dad used to sing to her every day. When she gets to college she randomly sees an old movie ("The Jerk" with Steve Martin) and is utterly crushed that her dad's quirky song is totally lifted right from this movie. It's way better for you to listen to it youself:
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/play_full.php?play=438&act=3
So where does one begin? Should we press rewind and start with the classic 80s coming-of-age movies? Apparently, here, that would start with a film called La Boum, but even following the plotlines via wikipedia (http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Boum) has left me exhausted. Should we forget the past and just start fresh with the latest and greatest in French pop culture? Even thinking through all of this is daunting. Perhaps we should throw in the towel and just continue watching Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice via itunes...
-E
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