American Soil

When Americans, and in particular those from the United States, travel outside of the US, they are looking for something new, discovering something different they've never seen, or at least going to visit family, be it known or never met. The original founders of the United States were looking for a better life, a "New World" different from Europe. So naturally we are explores; most of us except those African Americans that were brought to the US against their will. So stepping foot in a different country always brings about a feeling of something different, unusual, exciting.

As we discover these places we have not seen, we learn and in some cases take the time to write down, or at least aid our memories with pictures. If a picture means a thousand words, then the 100 or so pictures I'm taking each day while in France may culminate into a book of 1,400,000 words, or a 200 page book; a medium size story of sorts. But all too often we just do not take the time to take some pictures, or as in the case I am about to describe, are not permitted to photograph.

Due to the policies of the US, in the minds of some in this world, Americans do not belong in this world. Since the 1970's our enemies have continued to grow, but explosively since 2001. The attack on "American Soil" has changed everything. From the bombing of American warships in Yemen, to embassies in Africa, to the World Trade Center, Pentagon, and the fields of Pennsylvania, we have had to deal with individuals and organizations that want us dead. So it's no wonder why the American Embassy in Paris is not permitted to be photographed. Even the perimeter around the embassy cannot be photographed for fear of some sort of planning for an attack.

The interior of the Embassy is protected by the best; the United States Marines. That is definitely comforting. So when Sarah and I entered the Embassy, I felt safe. But I also had another feeling I did not expect. I felt as if I was at home. I had gone from being an explorer to a person that was back from their trip. Sure the Embassy was new, but I was back on "American Soil".

While in the Embassy, we were fortunate enough see Rob in his office, to meet a few of Rob's good friends, the cafeteria, exchange shop, small American store, and a few other places. English was the primary language, and even the French foreign nationals had to use it; something that was rather interesting to me, a feeling of pride. Which made me realize that if I felt the pride of being home, then when I'm visiting France, I should try to accommodate the French just a bit more by speaking their language. After all, the French have quite a bit to be proud about in their history.

Each country has "skeletons in the closet", but each also have their glory. The US is no different. However, the US and the French have shared a different bond that has lasted since the revolution of 13 colonies established by England decided they had had enough of the tyranny of King George and the harsh treatment as Englishmen. The French provided armed forces during the revolution, and provided a Navy strong enough to repel the British Navy at Yorktown, my home, to defeat Cornwallis and bring about the end of the revolution. They were also allied with us in 1812, and at other times in our history, including the understanding that many of the men that signed the Declaration of Independence were Ambassadors to France after the establishment of the US Federal government. So our histories, whether we like it or not, have been intertwined for a few centuries.

While in the Embassy, there is a room that has in it flags of the original 13 colonies. An American flag with 13 "Jewish" stars are on it representing the 13 colonies. For a time, I sat under my flag of Virginia and began to feel like there was a reason I was there; I was home, I was in Virginia.

A Jewish Perspective

European Jewry have lived an unusual tale from the beginning of the Roman Empire to present day Europe. The Roman Empire, in its need for slave labor, sent Jews from Israel to various parts of the world, up until that time included Asia, Africa, and Europe. In Europe, every country at one point in their history expelled Jews for one reason or another. Jews in general maintain strict communities, preventing the assimilation into regional cultures until the Medieval times. That's when Jews began attempting to become part of the fabric of the various countries and cultures, but did what they could to maintain the Jewish identity. In 1492, when Jews were evicted from Spain, many converted to Christianity, and in particular Catholicism to stay in Spain, while secretly maintaining their Jewish identity. To this day, there are Spaniards that still observe Passover and the Jewish holidays but are not certain why.

Germany was the last country to expel Jews in Europe; and that occurred in the mid 1930s. Some were fortunate enough to make it to America, some to South America, and even Asia and other parts of Europe. But when France was invaded in 1940, France was put into the unusual position of being forced by the Nazis to collect Jews for deportation to death camps. The French government that was put into place by the Nazis was the Vichy and they were responsible for the southern France while the Nazis controlled northern France. Some would say why not just tell the Nazis that they were not going to follow the requests of the Nazis. But instead the Vichy government arrested French citizens that were born Jewish without trepidation; they did it willingly. As a result, until recently, France has not acknowledged that it really had contributed to the genocide of European Jewry.

During our visit to Place des Vosges, we noticed various plaques remembering those Jews that where arrested in various parts of Paris. In all cases, they are designed to recognize the contribution of the French government and acknowledge how poor they acted when faced with the requests from the Nazis. A few of these plaques are shown in the attached pictures. Reading them brought nothing but tears to my eyes as I realized the depth of the genocide, and it's staggering to understand the extent of children from age of 2 months to adults at the age of 80 that were sent to death.

At the outset of the day we also walked past a modern orthodox Jewish synagogue. It was protected, 24 hours a day, by French Police. Antisemitism is fairly active here, though we have not been exposed to it. I'm not wearing a yarmulke, and I don't necessarily look Jewish. But from the Jewish Defense League's presence, it is indeed here. I am aware of the Anti-defamation League that is more of a legal route for dealing with antisemitism, but the JDL is more of a violent version that seeks to use force to reduce or eliminate antisemitism. It was comforting to me to see them in plain view and I support what they are doing, but I'm not sure I should condone everything they do.

Either way, it is still comforting to see that Jews are here, thriving, and generally accepted as part of the French citizenry.

Street Performances, Paris Style

Throughout the cities in the United States, there are all kinds of performers. Go to Pier 39 in San Francisco and you'll see jugglers and comedians. Try New York City and there are groups banging on garbage cans making some of the most interesting rhythms. Go to Williamsburg, Virginia and you'll encounter our local Klezmer band "Bagels and Fraylox" or the United States Air Force Heritage Band. While all of these are unique in and among themselves, and they are entertaining, entertainers in Paris are more versatile.

We headed this morning Place des Vosges, originally set up as a palace in 1407, later commissioned to be living quarters for Henri the IV and XIII and later made into apartments where Victor Hugo once lived. It was needless to say, an amazing place. We took the free tour of Victor Hugo's apartment, a rather posh one at that. But prior to our tour, we encountered the square in the center of the palace that is now a public park surrounded by rod iron gates. The park was packed with lots of sun bathers and Parisians relaxing on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. We entered the park, began strolling the park where the outside edges are lined by trees providing abundant shade. We turned one corner and I could swear I heard a choir singing. Well, indeed hear what I heard. But this was no ordinary choir; it was a choir of opera singers playing a couple of basses, guitars, a trumpet/percussionist, and two accordions. The music these men produced was so distinct it was simply unbelievable; the filled the square with some of the most heavenly music. They drew quite a crowd and during the "hat passing for donations" I found out they sell CD's. A clip of these men is attached.

Just prior to entering the tour of Victor Hugo's apartment, we noticed a harpist playing some amazing American music, top 40 from the 1970's. Pictured in this post, he appeared to be no older than 25, yet had the intensity, grace, and style of a professional.

After our tour of Victor Hugo's apartment, I heard what appeared to be an opera soloist. When we exited the tour location she was just around the corner. She used a single speaker, an iPod of recordings of such classics as he Marriage of Figaro, and she was singing. Initially I stopped to listen, but my family wanted to rest inside the park. We did, while Rob played soccer with a boye of the age no more than 5 and this young boy's father. As they played, the father was thanking Rob for helping him tire out his son for the day. The youngster was really good at passing and ran everywhere for his ball. After some play, we went back to listen to the opera soloist and she had collected a crowd of about 40 people. This lady was simply amazing, She was in perfect tune with the music and was able to sing some of the sweetest notes as well as having an extremely smooth tone. A clip of her singing is also included.

All in all, this afternoon's entertainment cost me about 3 Euros, but well worth the expense.

Checking the scenery.

Paris is by far one of the more interesting sights when it comes to architecture as well as gardens. Sure, each European city has a charm, but this place seems more unique than others. Each building as its own set of iron detailing, flower pots, and even look. There are Swiss chalet, modern, and even old school types that make for a menagerie of style and grace. Although each building has some similarities, there are individualistic styles that make each building different. Unlike developments or cities in America, this place is quite different.

BINGO! I Won!

Our first day in Paris was simply amazing. We began our journey with a stroll through the park near my brother's place. We passed two different ponds the second of which we could rent row boats. That might be a consideration later in our trip, but the banks are covered with lush green grasses and flower gardens of various colors. The path we walked is also used by an equestrian group, so there were plenty of land bombs to look for as we progressed. The ponds were so picturesque that I would swear that some of the Monet paintings were made of the area.

As we continued our walk into Paris, we came across two rather large museums. In between these museums was a small open mall filled with tourists, street performers, souvenir peddlers, and a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower. We took several pictures of the surrounding area, the tower, and other landmarks. From there we headed to the Gallery at Lafayette; shopping.

To get to the shopping area required a ride on the subway. Unlike all of the subways I've ridden, this one does not use rails; it uses tires on a metal track. This made for a very smooth and quiet ride. As we were waiting for the train, everything seemed normal. The train arrived, at at about the last second to board, we boarded by cramming past a few others. When I got onto the train, I instantly noticed that my left pocket, the one with my wallet was suddenly lighter; I had been bumped by one child that was the "bumper" and the second 14 year old girl robbed me of my wallet. The second I noticed it happened, I looked behind me and noticed the older teenager slowly putting her hand into the backside of her large purse; larger than a 14 or 15 year old should have. I realized at that moment the thief was there. I immediately grabbed her purse and yanked a few times to tear it out of her arms to retrieve my wallet. During my rapid attack she pulled out the wallet and dropped it on the ground. In the seconds that followed, she and her partner exited the train looking for another victim of their trade. I was so angry at that point all I wanted was to get off and chase her down. But the train doors were closed and the train was moving. I left her at the station with a loud, angry salutation, "Bitch"! She motioned back I was crazy but this crazed person realized that I had won the battle. I'm also the first guest of my brother's to be pick pocketed. To that I yell BINGO!

Now That's Odd

In America, we have a variety of things we take for granted. When we drive, we drive on the right side of the road. When we turn on a light switch, the switch slides up for on and down for off. Our speed limit signs indicate "speed limit". Meals purchased in restaurants are available from the time the establishment opens to the time it closes unless it's really expensive. Everyone generally takes their turn when in lines. And haggling for the purchase of items at a market is commonplace.

But in Europe, not so. We may have originated from Europe but America, and the US in particular is a different place. So when we travel outside of the US, society seems different. Morays that define how society operates are usually a bit odd to those that are visiting. But to me, they come across as striking.

Take for instance, driving. In the UK, they drive on the left side of the road, not the right. So those that have right of way, are those that are left. You might as well drive in the reflection of a mirror as an aid instead of trying to understand all the peculiar actions that such a change cause. Here in France, they drive on the right side, but it might as well be on the left; they're simply nuts. I'm a bit concerned about driving in a week or so, but my brother tells me it will be fairly easy. We shall see. The signage is different. Yield and stop signs are the same, but speed limit signs look like a bulls-eye target; a number inside a big red circle. There doesn't seem to be markings of the roads you are on either. So my GPS should make a difference. Just like Maryland, turn signals here are were you are going and not a request for permission to go. Stop lights are more like guidelines than actual requirements to stop.

The standard conveniences of living are also different here in France. To turn on a light switch, on is down and off is up. That was painfully obvious last night when I stumbled to go to the bathroom. I almost gave up to simply wizz anywhere. I finally made it to the toilet. Oh, yeah, the toilets are different too. In the states we have large bowls to collect the variety of things we excrete. In France, the collection region is no more than a small bowl that holds about 1 quart of water. Most of the water is used for flushing. So there's more like a funnel to this small bowl and everything collects onto the funnel. That simply means that whatever you poop is exposed to air much longer, making the experience even more disgusting because the stench is far more intense. Flushing is an option, unless you don't like feeling you are being swallowed by the toilet. It might be more efficient, but the experience is odd.

Taking your turn in France is also not something people like to do. On the road, drivers simply cut you off. A solid white line is for those that want to follow some rule of order. For the rest, it's a place to cut people off, even if you are on a crotch rocket. There are motorcycles and scooters everywhere, and they move in and out of traffic as if the cars are stationary objects in the way of their route. I asked our driver how many points you get for hitting one of them, and he was confused. I asked if you go to jail if you hit one, again he was confused. I guess you hit these cyclists, and if no one sees it, you're fine. Too bad for the cyclists. I have yet to experience the line jumping, but I'm sure that will happen soon. The question is who's going to jump in front of me; so much for that person.

France is also a socialistic society. Bus riding is an experience of its own. Paying to ride the bus is obviously optional. Bus drivers take the perspective that their job is to drive the bus. Yours is to pay to ride the bus. You don't pay and the bus driver simply feels its his job to drive the bus. Some people pay some just enter the back of the bus and ride without paying. Not very good if you ask me. Then there's the dog droppings. Owners are supposed to pick up their dog's droppings. If you don't who cares; there's a animal poop vacuum person that has the job of riding around the city and vacuuming the poop. That's a shitty job.

So the conveniences of home are not necessarily available everywhere. Maybe packing the kitchen sick wasn't that bad of an idea after all.

Where Are We?

During our trip from the airport to my brother's pad it became clear that Paris has become a different city than I remember 28 years ago. The city is growing with investments from Xerox, Firestone, and all sorts of other American firms. These huge buildings are being built in and among the variety of Paris landmarks. Old and new Paris in the same place.

During the drive, many different memories resurfaced. First, there was the architecture. Second was the location of various landmarks. Then there's the language. The driver we were with was using a TomTom and it was speaking French. This brought into mind two different things. First, some of the words were decernable such as gauche and adroit, left and right respectively. I kept hearing gauche and sure enough we took a left hand exit. Same for adroit. So that was comforting. But a bit unnerving was the realization that dogs, cats, and babies will only know French. So if you see a cute dog and ask it to "come here" it simply looks at you confused.

The location where we are staying is indeed a beautiful place. After a late breakfast we took showers and a long needed nap. Then off to the local market for some baguettes, fruit juices, and bottled water. I was told that we would be walking a lot here, and being diabetic as well as, find myself with lower blood glucose levels simply because of the additional exercise. Along the way, we stopped for some photo opportunities, including a local park. This are is simply amazing. More photos to come.