I've been taking it easy this week, kind of. I have been switching off between doing surveys and doing essentially nothing during the day. Monday, did nothing. Tuesday, I went to La Paillade to the marché and was overwhelmed with the amount of people there. The kicker was, of course, that the majority were there to shop and had almost zero desire to answer my survey questions. I don't blame them necessarily. I was able to acquire two people from shopping.
One man approached me and asked what I was doing, so I explained and we began the survey. What then proceeded was a long, treacherous conversation regarding U.S. involvement in the middle east, Israel and zionism, Iran and the fundamental tenets of Islam with respect to the individual. I left with him honestly and positively wishing that I find God (or Allah). "May Allah guide you," he proclaimed as we parted ways. "May you keep faith in humanity," I said. It was a glorious meeting.
Also, I spoke with a man whose French was not so great. I found myself translating certain words from French into Arabic with success! He understood the word migrant (muhajjir) and was able to answer the many questions regarding immigration policy, or siyasa-t-al-hijriyya.
Wednesday of course was a nice day off, and today I wasn't expecting much from my visit over to Figuerolles. Unable to find a suitable porte-éponge downtown, I went to Figuerolles to do a bit of ye olde surveying. Within maybe 20 minutes I had four completed (a new, world record). I then wandered a bit, found a man sitting in front of a café and interviewed/surveyed him (Kurdish from Turkey). Not only did he take my survey, he bought me tea and talked to me for a long time about the differences between the United States and Europe (mostly economic questions). He was pretty awesome, and seemed like a pretty sweet dude to go clubbing with.
All in all, I have 51 surveys. I'll be able to get a few more before I leave, hopefully rounding out around 65 if I can manage it. I'm okay with that. It's not 100, but it's not terrible for one person with extremely limited resources. Right?
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Ran out of Surveys!
My coffee stained surveys proved to not be enough today (as I should have known) and the photocopy place I tried was closed on Sundays (I would assume the same for the majority of the rest).
Regardless, I had extended survey sessions with some people (all men today, if I recall correctly). First, a book-seller from Cameroon lauded my efforts as he remarked on the positive potential of immigration (and migration in general) to circulate ideas, information and reduce the barriers that (if I've noticed anything) certainly exist between different kinds of people. No more parentheses y'all! Sorry!
Second, I met a man from the Comoros islands who was eloquent despite his inability to read or write. We talked during the survey time, and I ran into him again as I made the rounds of the flea market and he proceeded to tell me some things about Africa that I *had* to include in my B.A. thesis. I listened, and took notes. It fit with a lot of what I'd read about the systemic problems residents of Africa face; particularly those considering migrating to Europe. Perhaps most interesting was that he emphasized that remittances often had consequences for those who *send* them and not just consequences (positive and negative) for those that receive them. The way he put it was that people are sending money from what little they make and are forced to continually tighten their belts over and over again. That is, they send money to their families at their own expense, and he thinks this system isn't necessarily a good one. I don't necessarily agree or disagree, but it's an interesting perspective I had yet to hear.
Next, I met two Senegalese men who were percussionists (Sabar among others) who told me more than enough about their opinions regarding French immigration policy. We decided that Sarkozy was probably "déraciné," given his seeming disregard for the plight of immigrants, but a friendly guy listening in chimed that Sarkozy was in fact a "pédé" (look that up if you like). Regardless, they were animated and genuinely interested, which was a refreshing change of spirit from previous survey respondents.
Then, this afternoon, I watched three episodes of Mad Men. Sweet show.
Sabar, for those that are curious.
Regardless, I had extended survey sessions with some people (all men today, if I recall correctly). First, a book-seller from Cameroon lauded my efforts as he remarked on the positive potential of immigration (and migration in general) to circulate ideas, information and reduce the barriers that (if I've noticed anything) certainly exist between different kinds of people. No more parentheses y'all! Sorry!
Second, I met a man from the Comoros islands who was eloquent despite his inability to read or write. We talked during the survey time, and I ran into him again as I made the rounds of the flea market and he proceeded to tell me some things about Africa that I *had* to include in my B.A. thesis. I listened, and took notes. It fit with a lot of what I'd read about the systemic problems residents of Africa face; particularly those considering migrating to Europe. Perhaps most interesting was that he emphasized that remittances often had consequences for those who *send* them and not just consequences (positive and negative) for those that receive them. The way he put it was that people are sending money from what little they make and are forced to continually tighten their belts over and over again. That is, they send money to their families at their own expense, and he thinks this system isn't necessarily a good one. I don't necessarily agree or disagree, but it's an interesting perspective I had yet to hear.
Next, I met two Senegalese men who were percussionists (Sabar among others) who told me more than enough about their opinions regarding French immigration policy. We decided that Sarkozy was probably "déraciné," given his seeming disregard for the plight of immigrants, but a friendly guy listening in chimed that Sarkozy was in fact a "pédé" (look that up if you like). Regardless, they were animated and genuinely interested, which was a refreshing change of spirit from previous survey respondents.
Then, this afternoon, I watched three episodes of Mad Men. Sweet show.
Sabar, for those that are curious.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Parasolar Attack
I went to Figuerolles again today to seek folks to respond to my increasingly memorized questionnaire. It went fairly well for the time I was there, I got about 10 or so, which is as many as a single person can get during a day at the market (if only I had a team of eager researchers).
The worst part of the day was of course during a coffee break at the café across the street. I was minding my own business going over my questionnaires, sipping my coffee when the wind knocked the large metal umbrella behind me onto my shoulder (fortunately missing the sensitive back of my head area). Now I'm starting to feel the pain from that, but at the time all I could think about was the hot coffee spilled all over my face, hair, hands, glasses, table, notebook and surveys. Good times fokes, good times. As the server said, "Now you're research is about coffee." Classy.
After succumbing to the heat/tiredness, I returned back to the house to retire for the evening in preparation of a long day at the flea market at La Paillade, where I hope to hit my 50 mark! If I can leave Montpellier with 70+ surveys, I'll be happy. I have not too many days left to accomplish my goal, and I'm running out of people to ask in the two neighborhoods I've been going to. (Afraid to expand search to other neighborhoods for statistical reasons).
In other news, I hate Glenn Beck.
The worst part of the day was of course during a coffee break at the café across the street. I was minding my own business going over my questionnaires, sipping my coffee when the wind knocked the large metal umbrella behind me onto my shoulder (fortunately missing the sensitive back of my head area). Now I'm starting to feel the pain from that, but at the time all I could think about was the hot coffee spilled all over my face, hair, hands, glasses, table, notebook and surveys. Good times fokes, good times. As the server said, "Now you're research is about coffee." Classy.
After succumbing to the heat/tiredness, I returned back to the house to retire for the evening in preparation of a long day at the flea market at La Paillade, where I hope to hit my 50 mark! If I can leave Montpellier with 70+ surveys, I'll be happy. I have not too many days left to accomplish my goal, and I'm running out of people to ask in the two neighborhoods I've been going to. (Afraid to expand search to other neighborhoods for statistical reasons).
In other news, I hate Glenn Beck.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Sometimes Difficult
Not only was it stiflingly hot outside today, but I had little luck with surveys. To be fair, the people that did answer my questions were, for the most part, very interesting. That being said, I was only able to get three today. One Frenchman, one man originally from Senegal, and another man who sought asylum in France from Sudan.
The man from Sudan was particularly affecting for some reason. He didn't speak French very well, so I conducted the survey in English and spent some time to talk to him afterward about how he go to France from Sudan. At some point during the survey questions, he stated that he would never want to go back to Sudan, that it was not an option at all. Having arrived in France on his own, he sought asylum and was fortunate enough to receive papers that guarantee he will not be deported back to Sudan. He and his friend both had only elementary school level education...one with visible scars from something or another.
At any rate, it affected me more than I thought it could. Probably because of Dave Eggers' book that I read not so long ago, "What is the What?" I wouldn't dare to draw connections between these men and the man in the book, but I at least was reminded that stories like what you see in What is the What are entirely real. These men did not wait in a refugee camp, they came to France on their own accord. I can only imagine how and what kind of resources that required.
But, the most affecting (negatively, unfortunately) was the next man I asked to take my survey. I proceeded with my regular spiel, ending with the fact that I am an American researcher. He responded that he didn't like Americans, and therefore would be unwilling to take my survey. I couldn't just let that one go, and assured him that the survey had nothing to do with the United States, but rather was for an individual researcher. He proceeded to repeat that he didn't like Americans and revealed the reason. He doesn't like them because they are fighting wars against Arabs. Presumably he meant Iraq, but he mentioned Afghanistan too. I didn't mention that Afghans are not Arabs, but I got the message; it was Muslims he meant. I responded that I didn't agree necessarily with the actions of my government, to which he retorted that he didn't like Americans regardless, nor did he like the English, nor did he like Jews. Particularly not Jews. Despite my best efforts to get him to take my survey despite my American-ness, he was unwilling. I left by saying simply, "I'm sorry." Honestly, he really irritated me. So much so that I had to leave the neighborhood. I'll return tomorrow morning for the market, and maybe I'll see him again. This time I may try to argue with him some more, but perhaps it would be better if I left the man alone. Regardless, I still can't decide if his attitude stems solely from anger, but it's ironic that he would refuse to take a survey that sought to ascertain his views regarding something relevant to his life. In other words, on some level, I'm on his side.
The man from Sudan was particularly affecting for some reason. He didn't speak French very well, so I conducted the survey in English and spent some time to talk to him afterward about how he go to France from Sudan. At some point during the survey questions, he stated that he would never want to go back to Sudan, that it was not an option at all. Having arrived in France on his own, he sought asylum and was fortunate enough to receive papers that guarantee he will not be deported back to Sudan. He and his friend both had only elementary school level education...one with visible scars from something or another.
At any rate, it affected me more than I thought it could. Probably because of Dave Eggers' book that I read not so long ago, "What is the What?" I wouldn't dare to draw connections between these men and the man in the book, but I at least was reminded that stories like what you see in What is the What are entirely real. These men did not wait in a refugee camp, they came to France on their own accord. I can only imagine how and what kind of resources that required.
But, the most affecting (negatively, unfortunately) was the next man I asked to take my survey. I proceeded with my regular spiel, ending with the fact that I am an American researcher. He responded that he didn't like Americans, and therefore would be unwilling to take my survey. I couldn't just let that one go, and assured him that the survey had nothing to do with the United States, but rather was for an individual researcher. He proceeded to repeat that he didn't like Americans and revealed the reason. He doesn't like them because they are fighting wars against Arabs. Presumably he meant Iraq, but he mentioned Afghanistan too. I didn't mention that Afghans are not Arabs, but I got the message; it was Muslims he meant. I responded that I didn't agree necessarily with the actions of my government, to which he retorted that he didn't like Americans regardless, nor did he like the English, nor did he like Jews. Particularly not Jews. Despite my best efforts to get him to take my survey despite my American-ness, he was unwilling. I left by saying simply, "I'm sorry." Honestly, he really irritated me. So much so that I had to leave the neighborhood. I'll return tomorrow morning for the market, and maybe I'll see him again. This time I may try to argue with him some more, but perhaps it would be better if I left the man alone. Regardless, I still can't decide if his attitude stems solely from anger, but it's ironic that he would refuse to take a survey that sought to ascertain his views regarding something relevant to his life. In other words, on some level, I'm on his side.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Updatezzz (Feel like I'm approaching the end)
After a nice weekend of surveying, my mom and Robert arrived on Sunday from Paris to check me out in Montpellier! Among other things, we made smoothies, visited the nude beach, ate out at a fairly nice restaurant, met a man from Brooklyn, and wandered about downtown in Montpellier. I was happy sleeping in the tent while they were here, but I now am struggling returning to whatever work pattern I may or may not have had.
Yesterday, I decided to go buy some things I needed from the mall, and got some Montpellier football team memorabilia. I also recorded a new mix that had been in the pipeline for a while.
Last night and today I formulated and translated some questions for M. Bard, the head of the développement solidaire branch of the Ministry of Immigration. I might as well attach them so you can see what exactly I'm trying to figure out. I decided to exclude this question: "How do you respond to the critique that the site serves only to manage another aspect of migration, and perhaps profit from remittances and does little to encourage development?" Depending on how he reacts, I may ask it again.
Questions to M. Bard:
1. How does développement solidaire fit in with the other missions/goals of the Ministry of Immigration? Some might deem it incompatible with the ministry's other components; is this true? If not incompatible, then does it serve to further the other stated goals of the ministry? That is, is development intended to reduce immigration? Is it intended to encourage immigration of highly qualified workers? Is it intended to encourage circular migration?
2. How are countries selected for development through this ministry?
3. How are projects determined? Is it solely by assisting existing ideas or projects from migrant associations or other organizations?
4. What are the conditions for entering into développement solidaire? Must a country agree to increase its policing of the border or its efforts to prevent illegal migration into France in order to receive the benefits of this partnership known as développement solidaire?
5. Is the end result of développement solidaire a more independent country of origin that produces less migrants aiming toward France? Doesn't development and, further, remittance flows encourage a dependence on France as a source of wealth and a dependence on the process of migration to France?
6. How have you and will you measure the impact of your efforts in the area of développement solidaire?
Questions re: envoidargent.fr
-- How do you plan to publicize the site?
-- How successful do you rate the site currently and in terms of its potential?
-- What are the plans for the future of the site?
-- Will you provide a way to send the money directly?
-- Will you provide links to development projects? (As I have seen in
the past on the site?)
-- How do you respond to the critique that the site will have little impact given that a portion of funds are sent to destinations without mobile phones or internet, let alone banks or a post office?
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Survey Day 2
After taking the day off from stressful survey giving to finish my ChoMUN Crisis Director Manual (first draft), I went back into the action in Figuerolles today. I'm up to 11 responses (maybe 12), so, at this rate, I should be able to get close to 100 before I leave Montpellier (I can only hope).
Today, I found it a bit easier to speak to people and randomly ask them to take a survey. I am trying to maintain a decent variety of folks, but I'm concerned that I will either need to get a representative sample of non-immigrants, or just throw their data out altogether when doing the analysis.
In my decent variety of folks, I encountered many that proceeded to have extended conversations with me prompted solely by my fairly non-intrusive, simple survey. As a result, I taught some guys how to say "You're pretty" in English, I placed my faith in a stranger that he would send me the survey when he finishes it (it'll be a miracle reaffirming the potential of the human spirit if I do get it in the mail), I learned all about how Jimmy Carter and someone else ruined the life of a woman by deposing the Shah in Iran in the 1970s, and I discussed in length the notion of "new colonization [nouvelle colonisation]."
I learned a lot and realized that my survey may have some value to it, even though I may have missed some obvious questions. At the very least, it provokes some interesting and valuable commentary from the population I'm trying to study. For example, I should have asked if people send things other than money to their country of origin (as was pointed out to me today by a respondent who reminded me that often its objects that contribute directly to the development of countries, and not just money).
Overall, it was a great day, and I can't wait to do more (even if it's draining and intimidating).
Also, I finished Absalom, Absalom! More Faulkner please! New favorite quotation:
"'Now I want you to tell me just one thing more. Why do you hate the South?' 'I don't hate it,' Quentin said, quickly, at once, immediately; 'I don't hate it,' he said. I dont hate it he thought, panting in the cold air, the iron New England dark: I dont. I dont! I dont hate it! I dont hate it!"
Today, I found it a bit easier to speak to people and randomly ask them to take a survey. I am trying to maintain a decent variety of folks, but I'm concerned that I will either need to get a representative sample of non-immigrants, or just throw their data out altogether when doing the analysis.
In my decent variety of folks, I encountered many that proceeded to have extended conversations with me prompted solely by my fairly non-intrusive, simple survey. As a result, I taught some guys how to say "You're pretty" in English, I placed my faith in a stranger that he would send me the survey when he finishes it (it'll be a miracle reaffirming the potential of the human spirit if I do get it in the mail), I learned all about how Jimmy Carter and someone else ruined the life of a woman by deposing the Shah in Iran in the 1970s, and I discussed in length the notion of "new colonization [nouvelle colonisation]."
I learned a lot and realized that my survey may have some value to it, even though I may have missed some obvious questions. At the very least, it provokes some interesting and valuable commentary from the population I'm trying to study. For example, I should have asked if people send things other than money to their country of origin (as was pointed out to me today by a respondent who reminded me that often its objects that contribute directly to the development of countries, and not just money).
Overall, it was a great day, and I can't wait to do more (even if it's draining and intimidating).
Also, I finished Absalom, Absalom! More Faulkner please! New favorite quotation:
"'Now I want you to tell me just one thing more. Why do you hate the South?' 'I don't hate it,' Quentin said, quickly, at once, immediately; 'I don't hate it,' he said. I dont hate it he thought, panting in the cold air, the iron New England dark: I dont. I dont! I dont hate it! I dont hate it!"
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
First Survey Day
I just returned from an epic bike ride journey (one that involved biking to La Paillade and Figuerolles) that put my survey to the test. Turns out that, for the most part, it's good. It requires a bit of explanation here and there, but only for the folks that need it, the majority had no problem understanding the questions, just some difficulty answering them (which was expected at times).
As compared to my research in Chicago, my only real frame of reference, the first struggle I had was a lack of incentive. Without waving money around, how could I get people to take 10 minutes out of their lives to take a survey? I began abruptly in La Paillade, just missing the market by about 10 minutes. Having 15 copies of my survey at hand, I was determined to get about half of those (didn't quite meet the mark, but oh well). I paced frantically, trying to determine exactly how I could begin a conversation that was formal, pleading but not begging, etc. etc.
My formulation was as follows: Excusez-moi, monsieur (ou madame). Voudriez-vous répondre aux quelques questions? This seemed simple enough. Of course, my first target simply said "No." The second were a two men, seated, seemingly not too busy. I mustered the courage to present them with my formula. One seemed not to care whatsoever, regardless of what I was going to say, while the other seemed generally curious. Not curious enough to contradict his friend who informed me that he was pretty busy and in a hurry.
Regardless, I realized that I had to develop a hook, line and sinker technique where I somehow got their interest long enough. I went back to a commercial center to find some people at bars (maybe?) (even though it's Ramadan) and did indeed find more people idling there. I approached one man who seemed nice. I started my formula, and he seemed to quickly lose interest, so I added, "Je suis un chercheur américain." BAM! Success. "Vous-êtes américain?" That piqued his interest. So, I sat down and did an interview style survey with him. Things went well. After it was over, with me practically hyperventilating, I went forth to find my next victim.
I found a woman seated in a café. I wasn't sure how to approach her, so I just asked the question, but with some reservation. Apparently I'm cute enough, because she said simply "Dites-moi" and I then began my "I'm an American researcher"spiel which seems to work so well. And, oh, did it ever (work so well). Not only did she take my survey, she gave me a glass of water, and a croissant for free. !!
I then wandered some more, finding a man staring at me strangely in the commercial center. Well, I asked him if he wanted to take the survey. This one was difficult because he seemed interested, but French was definitely not his language. I'm not sure how valuable his responses were.
Finally, I found a man in a white robe (Gandalf) and he responded well to my survey, and I even got to show him that I knew how to write Arabic, etc. (I'd like to think of these as halfway between survey and interview [the ethno-survey]).
After that, I said to myself I couldn't take anymore, it was too overwhelming. So, I made my way back home only to change my mind and head to Figuerolles to see how my luck fared there.
Much more happenings were happening at Figuerolles, but most people appeared preoccupied. I went over to my favorite little bar area where the old men sit, and saw some particularly bored looking gentlemen. I went up to them and began to ask, providing the hook "Can I ask you some questions?" Then, the line after he says "For what?": "Well, you see, I'm an American researcher and..." And finally, the sinker: "Does it take our name and address?" "No." "Okay we'll take it."
Therein I got two more responses, and could have gotten more (but I didn't want to sacrifice the quality of the data and get too much from the same group of gentlemen outside a café). These men were quite nice, and I discussed at length some of the issues surrounding French immigration, the obtaining of visas, and the like.
All in all, a good day. One thing I noticed: people are generally pretty nice. Another thing: Ramadan desserts attract bees like CRAZY. OH MY GOD. I have never seen so many bees around food and no one care. I suppose they are drenched in honey.
I also bought mint and some of the aforementioned Ramadan desserts. Yummy.
As compared to my research in Chicago, my only real frame of reference, the first struggle I had was a lack of incentive. Without waving money around, how could I get people to take 10 minutes out of their lives to take a survey? I began abruptly in La Paillade, just missing the market by about 10 minutes. Having 15 copies of my survey at hand, I was determined to get about half of those (didn't quite meet the mark, but oh well). I paced frantically, trying to determine exactly how I could begin a conversation that was formal, pleading but not begging, etc. etc.
My formulation was as follows: Excusez-moi, monsieur (ou madame). Voudriez-vous répondre aux quelques questions? This seemed simple enough. Of course, my first target simply said "No." The second were a two men, seated, seemingly not too busy. I mustered the courage to present them with my formula. One seemed not to care whatsoever, regardless of what I was going to say, while the other seemed generally curious. Not curious enough to contradict his friend who informed me that he was pretty busy and in a hurry.
Regardless, I realized that I had to develop a hook, line and sinker technique where I somehow got their interest long enough. I went back to a commercial center to find some people at bars (maybe?) (even though it's Ramadan) and did indeed find more people idling there. I approached one man who seemed nice. I started my formula, and he seemed to quickly lose interest, so I added, "Je suis un chercheur américain." BAM! Success. "Vous-êtes américain?" That piqued his interest. So, I sat down and did an interview style survey with him. Things went well. After it was over, with me practically hyperventilating, I went forth to find my next victim.
I found a woman seated in a café. I wasn't sure how to approach her, so I just asked the question, but with some reservation. Apparently I'm cute enough, because she said simply "Dites-moi" and I then began my "I'm an American researcher"spiel which seems to work so well. And, oh, did it ever (work so well). Not only did she take my survey, she gave me a glass of water, and a croissant for free. !!
I then wandered some more, finding a man staring at me strangely in the commercial center. Well, I asked him if he wanted to take the survey. This one was difficult because he seemed interested, but French was definitely not his language. I'm not sure how valuable his responses were.
Finally, I found a man in a white robe (Gandalf) and he responded well to my survey, and I even got to show him that I knew how to write Arabic, etc. (I'd like to think of these as halfway between survey and interview [the ethno-survey]).
After that, I said to myself I couldn't take anymore, it was too overwhelming. So, I made my way back home only to change my mind and head to Figuerolles to see how my luck fared there.
Much more happenings were happening at Figuerolles, but most people appeared preoccupied. I went over to my favorite little bar area where the old men sit, and saw some particularly bored looking gentlemen. I went up to them and began to ask, providing the hook "Can I ask you some questions?" Then, the line after he says "For what?": "Well, you see, I'm an American researcher and..." And finally, the sinker: "Does it take our name and address?" "No." "Okay we'll take it."
Therein I got two more responses, and could have gotten more (but I didn't want to sacrifice the quality of the data and get too much from the same group of gentlemen outside a café). These men were quite nice, and I discussed at length some of the issues surrounding French immigration, the obtaining of visas, and the like.
All in all, a good day. One thing I noticed: people are generally pretty nice. Another thing: Ramadan desserts attract bees like CRAZY. OH MY GOD. I have never seen so many bees around food and no one care. I suppose they are drenched in honey.
I also bought mint and some of the aforementioned Ramadan desserts. Yummy.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Nice, Claire's Visit, Updates
Been a while since I posted. I'm furiously posting photographs and videos on Facebook/Youtube. Maybe I'll update this post when they are all up and processed.
In terms of research, I'm severely behind as a result of Claire's visit, but it was certainly worth it. Just got back from Nice, which was a beautiful city. I managed to cut down on costs using a ride share and Couch Surfing; both of which also had rewards in interesting conversation and exciting folks.
The beach at Nice definitely lives up to it's qualification as the Coast of Azure as the water was bright blue in color. The old city was suuuper cute too. Claire took some great pictures I'm sure with one of the four cameras we had with us.
So: recommended things for travelers in France/Nice. Couch Surfing! Covoiturage! Hotel Rex in Nice!
Hotel Rex is in a perfect location (couldn't be better) and was not too expensive. It was not the nicest hotel in the world, but the staff went beyond the call of duty and let us shower after we checked out and store are bags late into the night.
What else, what else. I saw a soccer game (Montpellier vs. Gyor) [they lost] and I went to many museums (also a zoo and clubs!). There will be many pictures I'm sure, and here's a nice video pairing le Jardin des Plantes and a view of Nice from Le Chateau (a hill overlooking the old city) with a tight song from Skream's new album Outside The Box.
In terms of research, I'm severely behind as a result of Claire's visit, but it was certainly worth it. Just got back from Nice, which was a beautiful city. I managed to cut down on costs using a ride share and Couch Surfing; both of which also had rewards in interesting conversation and exciting folks.
The beach at Nice definitely lives up to it's qualification as the Coast of Azure as the water was bright blue in color. The old city was suuuper cute too. Claire took some great pictures I'm sure with one of the four cameras we had with us.
So: recommended things for travelers in France/Nice. Couch Surfing! Covoiturage! Hotel Rex in Nice!
Hotel Rex is in a perfect location (couldn't be better) and was not too expensive. It was not the nicest hotel in the world, but the staff went beyond the call of duty and let us shower after we checked out and store are bags late into the night.
What else, what else. I saw a soccer game (Montpellier vs. Gyor) [they lost] and I went to many museums (also a zoo and clubs!). There will be many pictures I'm sure, and here's a nice video pairing le Jardin des Plantes and a view of Nice from Le Chateau (a hill overlooking the old city) with a tight song from Skream's new album Outside The Box.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Back In Montpellier
It's Tuesday and I must admit Monday was relatively unproductive. I needed a day of rest. I did read a chapter and think quite a bit!
I also checked out Andrew Weatherall for a few minutes at Antigone. He was rockin' the crowd, but I think I'll prefer Derrick May tonight. (WOO HOO!)
Today I went to the post office, and also biked over to Figuerolles (after getting lost of course) and took a couple pictures after exploring the neighborhood. I think it will be a much better location for an eventual survey as there was far more commerce (relative to La Paillade).
Now: to finish my books and to draft my survey.
But first: France television's finest show "Secret Story" is currently on...gotta watch!
I also checked out Andrew Weatherall for a few minutes at Antigone. He was rockin' the crowd, but I think I'll prefer Derrick May tonight. (WOO HOO!)
Today I went to the post office, and also biked over to Figuerolles (after getting lost of course) and took a couple pictures after exploring the neighborhood. I think it will be a much better location for an eventual survey as there was far more commerce (relative to La Paillade).
Now: to finish my books and to draft my survey.
But first: France television's finest show "Secret Story" is currently on...gotta watch!
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Paris Full Report
I'm currently sitting on the TGV, ready to tell the story of the fun-filled, exciting and expensive weekend that was my weekend in Paris. Where do I begin?
Thursday, I left Montpellier around noon and hopped on the TGV to Paris. The train ride consisted of general note-taking from a book I had checked out in Montpellier and attempts at mixing together a few tracks with my mouse n keyboard (although my iPod earbuds are now utterly useless for some reason). Getting to Gare de Lyon was easy enough, and it took, surprisingly, about one-third of that time to Metro myself over to La Défense (whereupon I got thoroughly lost trying to find Chez Parent in Courbevoie). Several phone calls later, I arrived at the house of my gracious hosts (thanks!) and relaxed briefly before trekking back on the Metro over to la Bibliothèque François Mitterand only to get further lost trying to find the Paris center of University of Chicago. Once found, I sought familiar faces, finding one and gaining three (you know who you are). I sat with my new familiar faces and thoroughly was reminded of life back at good ole UofC during the glorious lecture deconstructing the Celtic craze presented by Michael Dietler (Celticism, Celtitude and Celticity: The Consumption of the Past in the Age of Globalization). After several glasses of wine, an awkward conversation with an alum and a trip to a nearby British bar, I returned to La Défense, ready to explore Paris on the morrow.
That leaves us at Friday. Getting a bit of a later start than I had anticipated, I made my way to the Louvre and skipped the whole Museum thing to go find the Ministry of Immigration. I, of course, got severely lost and found that my general sense of direction could only carry me so far, for I was in the right area but I knew not the address. (Silly me!) I eventually did find the Ministry (thanks Magali) but I was forced to only take a picture of the shiny, gold plaque adorned with the Ministry's lengthy title. Not ready to give up on getting lost, I decided to go find the office of Agence française de développement (AFD) hoping to miraculously speak to someone relevant there (unlikely). This time I was prepared with an address, but this time the street was not in my map. I walked probably half a mile past where I thought AFD's building was only to turn around in frustration and spot the "afd" logo glittering next to the metro stop at which I arrived. The visitors center at AFD was not bad, there were some neat pamphlets and I realized that they must have quite a lot of money (from the government), because the building was really nice and large. But honestly, about all I got from that trip was tired feet and several pamphlets.
Friday night, after returning to La Défense, I quickly went back over to grab dinner with my UChicago connection in Paris in some kind of Chinatown nearish to their place of residence (at Cité). The Pho was good, but I was unable to convince anyone to go to the "sporadic club" by the Louvre later. After dinner was over, I ventured to find this sporadic club (Piano Cosmic). I did indeed find it, but was forced to wait for about an hour until its opening (I wasn't that early, they started late). Once I finally got in, I was wooed by the sweet, soothing bass of some awesome, groovy tech/deep house until around 6 in the morning. While it wasn't that great being by myself, the trip was rendered valuable walking back to my metro stop around 5:45 as I took a nice picture of la Seine at crepuscule.
Saturday began late. I decided to go Centre Pompidou and the library there. I did both, found a great book with a good overview of the codéveloppement issue (from la Sorbonne) and thoroughly enjoyed the museum and gallery at the Centre. (See Fbook for pictures). I tried to meet my new UChicago peeps for dinner or something, but phone calls were seemingly not functioning. As a result, I stayed home Saturday night, made dinner and watched Kaamelott on TV for several hours.
I woke up relatively early this morning, packed my bags, locked up the house (thanks again!) and hopped over to l'Arc de Triomphe to witness some of the pre-final-stage-of-the-Tour frenzy. Thoroughly frenzied, I followed the orders of my UChicago pals (new name every time) and met up somewhere near the Louvre so I could stand and look at the awesome street the Tour riders would be riding on. About thirty minutes later, I hopped back on the Metro to Gare de Lyon, got on the train, finished my little mashup/mix idea (Cook Them - Lil B + Soulja Boy vs. Ramadanman) and began writing this lengthy post.
In other news, this kid next to me will NOT stop farting. Someone please save me.
Thursday, I left Montpellier around noon and hopped on the TGV to Paris. The train ride consisted of general note-taking from a book I had checked out in Montpellier and attempts at mixing together a few tracks with my mouse n keyboard (although my iPod earbuds are now utterly useless for some reason). Getting to Gare de Lyon was easy enough, and it took, surprisingly, about one-third of that time to Metro myself over to La Défense (whereupon I got thoroughly lost trying to find Chez Parent in Courbevoie). Several phone calls later, I arrived at the house of my gracious hosts (thanks!) and relaxed briefly before trekking back on the Metro over to la Bibliothèque François Mitterand only to get further lost trying to find the Paris center of University of Chicago. Once found, I sought familiar faces, finding one and gaining three (you know who you are). I sat with my new familiar faces and thoroughly was reminded of life back at good ole UofC during the glorious lecture deconstructing the Celtic craze presented by Michael Dietler (Celticism, Celtitude and Celticity: The Consumption of the Past in the Age of Globalization). After several glasses of wine, an awkward conversation with an alum and a trip to a nearby British bar, I returned to La Défense, ready to explore Paris on the morrow.
That leaves us at Friday. Getting a bit of a later start than I had anticipated, I made my way to the Louvre and skipped the whole Museum thing to go find the Ministry of Immigration. I, of course, got severely lost and found that my general sense of direction could only carry me so far, for I was in the right area but I knew not the address. (Silly me!) I eventually did find the Ministry (thanks Magali) but I was forced to only take a picture of the shiny, gold plaque adorned with the Ministry's lengthy title. Not ready to give up on getting lost, I decided to go find the office of Agence française de développement (AFD) hoping to miraculously speak to someone relevant there (unlikely). This time I was prepared with an address, but this time the street was not in my map. I walked probably half a mile past where I thought AFD's building was only to turn around in frustration and spot the "afd" logo glittering next to the metro stop at which I arrived. The visitors center at AFD was not bad, there were some neat pamphlets and I realized that they must have quite a lot of money (from the government), because the building was really nice and large. But honestly, about all I got from that trip was tired feet and several pamphlets.
Friday night, after returning to La Défense, I quickly went back over to grab dinner with my UChicago connection in Paris in some kind of Chinatown nearish to their place of residence (at Cité). The Pho was good, but I was unable to convince anyone to go to the "sporadic club" by the Louvre later. After dinner was over, I ventured to find this sporadic club (Piano Cosmic). I did indeed find it, but was forced to wait for about an hour until its opening (I wasn't that early, they started late). Once I finally got in, I was wooed by the sweet, soothing bass of some awesome, groovy tech/deep house until around 6 in the morning. While it wasn't that great being by myself, the trip was rendered valuable walking back to my metro stop around 5:45 as I took a nice picture of la Seine at crepuscule.
Saturday began late. I decided to go Centre Pompidou and the library there. I did both, found a great book with a good overview of the codéveloppement issue (from la Sorbonne) and thoroughly enjoyed the museum and gallery at the Centre. (See Fbook for pictures). I tried to meet my new UChicago peeps for dinner or something, but phone calls were seemingly not functioning. As a result, I stayed home Saturday night, made dinner and watched Kaamelott on TV for several hours.
I woke up relatively early this morning, packed my bags, locked up the house (thanks again!) and hopped over to l'Arc de Triomphe to witness some of the pre-final-stage-of-the-Tour frenzy. Thoroughly frenzied, I followed the orders of my UChicago pals (new name every time) and met up somewhere near the Louvre so I could stand and look at the awesome street the Tour riders would be riding on. About thirty minutes later, I hopped back on the Metro to Gare de Lyon, got on the train, finished my little mashup/mix idea (Cook Them - Lil B + Soulja Boy vs. Ramadanman) and began writing this lengthy post.
In other news, this kid next to me will NOT stop farting. Someone please save me.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
What's Up (Pre-Paris)
Today and yesterday were my last two days to use the library, so I used them to my full advantage (by going to the library and reading of course!). Yesterday I also traveled to La Paillade (by bike) which was tiring and interesting. I rode through the whole neighborhood and saw that it was certainly worse than my first visit had indicated (in terms of the quality of buildings, etc.). I was too scared (seriously) to talk to anyone in particular, so I resorted to businesses.
I went to the branch of the Montpellier Agglo only to find that it was entirely useless as it did nothing to cater to the residents of Mosson (or La Paillade) and was simply a branch that marketed silly Agglo things (I did get tickets to a soccer game). Feeling inspired, I walked into the bank one of the commercial centers (St. Paul) and asked outright if people came to the bank to transfer money, aka send remittances. The response was what I expected, and fairly obvious; yes. Not wanting to hold up the line, I said thanks and left to drink some coffee in a café (the only white person) and write a draft questionnaire/survey.
I'm going to Paris this weekend. I'll try to stop by the Ministry of Immigration, the Agence française du développement and maybe a few awesome clubs (also to the University of Chicago send-off party Thursday night). Although I'll miss the end of the Tour on Sunday, I'll at least experience some of the frenzy (hopefully) beforehand on Sunday morning (we'll see).
Lots of work left, more neighborhoods to explore. I should also stop by the Prefecture and the office of Immigration here in Montpellier (why haven't I done this yet?) and try to talk to someone about why co-development/envoidargent.fr doesn't seem to be advertised anywhere.
In other news, I use far too many parentheses.
I went to the branch of the Montpellier Agglo only to find that it was entirely useless as it did nothing to cater to the residents of Mosson (or La Paillade) and was simply a branch that marketed silly Agglo things (I did get tickets to a soccer game). Feeling inspired, I walked into the bank one of the commercial centers (St. Paul) and asked outright if people came to the bank to transfer money, aka send remittances. The response was what I expected, and fairly obvious; yes. Not wanting to hold up the line, I said thanks and left to drink some coffee in a café (the only white person) and write a draft questionnaire/survey.
I'm going to Paris this weekend. I'll try to stop by the Ministry of Immigration, the Agence française du développement and maybe a few awesome clubs (also to the University of Chicago send-off party Thursday night). Although I'll miss the end of the Tour on Sunday, I'll at least experience some of the frenzy (hopefully) beforehand on Sunday morning (we'll see).
Lots of work left, more neighborhoods to explore. I should also stop by the Prefecture and the office of Immigration here in Montpellier (why haven't I done this yet?) and try to talk to someone about why co-development/envoidargent.fr doesn't seem to be advertised anywhere.
In other news, I use far too many parentheses.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Ryan Here: Research Hiatus
To best be a host for my friend Ryan, who arrived yesterday, I have decided to put my research on hold for the weekend (which began Wednesday morning when I picked Ryan up [on foot] from the train station).
Having thus decided, I went yesterday to the magnificent fireworks display à Grammont which was indeed as magnificent as my aforementioned adjective intended. It was the most righteous display of exploding colors and loud sounds to which I have ever borne witness. It beat out 4th of July, by about 10 days.
In other news, I consumed far too much of the poisonous brew known as ginger rum last night at some small Jazz club downtown. This resulted in a late start this morning, but the day was not totally lost. We rode down to the beach and ate sausage sandwiches after playing in the waves. Before arriving back at the house, we stopped by the Spanish festival being held in honor of the recent World Cup victory. It was okay, the sangria could have been better. Now, these past few days are being etched forever (probably true, eerily) onto the cyber-walls of the Book of Faces. Enjoy.
Having thus decided, I went yesterday to the magnificent fireworks display à Grammont which was indeed as magnificent as my aforementioned adjective intended. It was the most righteous display of exploding colors and loud sounds to which I have ever borne witness. It beat out 4th of July, by about 10 days.
In other news, I consumed far too much of the poisonous brew known as ginger rum last night at some small Jazz club downtown. This resulted in a late start this morning, but the day was not totally lost. We rode down to the beach and ate sausage sandwiches after playing in the waves. Before arriving back at the house, we stopped by the Spanish festival being held in honor of the recent World Cup victory. It was okay, the sangria could have been better. Now, these past few days are being etched forever (probably true, eerily) onto the cyber-walls of the Book of Faces. Enjoy.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
La Cimade Interview/Thoughts
Yesterday I had my second what I might call a "key-informant" interview with the director of La Cimade here in Montpellier. It was a very difficult interview for me in that he was very quick, concise and unwilling to compromise in both his answers and his perceptions. The information I was able to extract is valuable, and heavily biased. It also was somewhat disheartening in that his core message quite cleanly rips apart the concept of public policy being effective or important, let alone the notion of a public policy that includes development.
My suspicions with respect to this "codevelopment" were, to some degree, confirmed by his response. It seems not only to me to be simply some kind of loose, contrived add-on to a strict, harsh regime of expulsion and control. In fact, he confirmed my thesis that it's an additional form of control. Whether or not its solely for the image of "development," I'm not sure. In one sense, the cooperative development programs are intended, it appears, to increase the economic state of the country of origin to reduce some of the push factors associated with emigration from that country and some of the pull factors of immigrating to France. Yet, with development agreements that involve policing undocumented/illegal immigration as a precondition for receiving money, partnerships for work visas and profiting off of remittance flows (see envoidargent.fr), I see that France has a stake in maintaining, or even increasing the migration from a particular country. The important point is that France control every aspect of that migration. This, of course, fits very well into the notion of selective migration and the like. This in no way, I'd argue, contributes to the real economic independence of the country of origin (the only way that migration might subside, if that's the goal). And yes, perhaps the goal is not to reduce migration, but merely to effectively manage it and make as much profit as possible from migration flows.
There's a lot that could be studied here, many claims that could be made. My next background area of research will be to look at the large-scale trade agreements between France and, say, North Africa, or countries that are a part of this codevelopment scheme, and respective migration patterns. The link between free trade and mobility came up in some of the reading I was doing, and it's unclear what it actually is. Final point: I might want to focus on the impact of legitimizing remittances on both the flow of remittances, and consequently on the degree of immigration, or to the amount of profit gained by the French government, for example. There are tons of variables and not a lot of clarity, nor any data. This remittances issue could be interesting for a questionnaire, but as my friend at La Cimade curtly reminded me, "Come on, what does it matter if [the remittance flow] increases or doesn't increase? What's the interest?"
In other news, tomorrow is Bastille Day. Woo hoo! I wonder what I'll do.
My suspicions with respect to this "codevelopment" were, to some degree, confirmed by his response. It seems not only to me to be simply some kind of loose, contrived add-on to a strict, harsh regime of expulsion and control. In fact, he confirmed my thesis that it's an additional form of control. Whether or not its solely for the image of "development," I'm not sure. In one sense, the cooperative development programs are intended, it appears, to increase the economic state of the country of origin to reduce some of the push factors associated with emigration from that country and some of the pull factors of immigrating to France. Yet, with development agreements that involve policing undocumented/illegal immigration as a precondition for receiving money, partnerships for work visas and profiting off of remittance flows (see envoidargent.fr), I see that France has a stake in maintaining, or even increasing the migration from a particular country. The important point is that France control every aspect of that migration. This, of course, fits very well into the notion of selective migration and the like. This in no way, I'd argue, contributes to the real economic independence of the country of origin (the only way that migration might subside, if that's the goal). And yes, perhaps the goal is not to reduce migration, but merely to effectively manage it and make as much profit as possible from migration flows.
There's a lot that could be studied here, many claims that could be made. My next background area of research will be to look at the large-scale trade agreements between France and, say, North Africa, or countries that are a part of this codevelopment scheme, and respective migration patterns. The link between free trade and mobility came up in some of the reading I was doing, and it's unclear what it actually is. Final point: I might want to focus on the impact of legitimizing remittances on both the flow of remittances, and consequently on the degree of immigration, or to the amount of profit gained by the French government, for example. There are tons of variables and not a lot of clarity, nor any data. This remittances issue could be interesting for a questionnaire, but as my friend at La Cimade curtly reminded me, "Come on, what does it matter if [the remittance flow] increases or doesn't increase? What's the interest?"
In other news, tomorrow is Bastille Day. Woo hoo! I wonder what I'll do.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Research Begins
Finally, finally. I was able to discover the exact hours that La Cimade, an organization that provides legal counsel and other services to undocumented migrants in France, and went there yesterday morning. This was, of course, after my interview (that was unfortunately short) with PierreetClaire near the Prefecture in the center of Montpellier. They are passionate advocates and activists for the fair treatment and the protection of rights of immigrants in France. Throughout the interview, they provided me with a wealth of material upon which to ruminate.
Not only that, but I got a better idea of just how exactly La Cimade's hours worked (don't ask; they don't really make sense). After returning home and watching the unfortunate loss of Germany to Spain (although good for Montpellier with its many Spain supporters), I woke up early to head to the hip Beaux Arts district. There, I did indeed find La Cimade open and operating with a legal counsel session in session (based rhymes) and the responsable, the director, essentially chilling in his office. I spoke with M. Jean-Paul Nuñez only for a few, maybe ten, minutes, regarding my identity and my research aims. I will meet with him more extensively this coming Monday and hopefully will be able to conduct a more formal, key-informant style interview with him. (One concern: my research aim isn't totally solidified, or maybe it is.)
Before I continue forward in my recounting, let me step backward and describe La Paillade (see Facebook for photos). It was about as much like the familiar American "hood" (parts of the South Side of Chicago, my neighborhood in Nashville) as Montpellier could possibly become, with trash and a sense of abandon littered around the streets below public housing. Interestingly, for all those who were curious, La Paillade is probably not a food desert; its main commercial center had a supermarket and a wealth of fresh produce in small convenience stores (including a delicious nectarine). I hope to return and talk to people in the administrative building to find out more about the population and related issues (and maybe eventually do a questionnaire? [I can only hope.])
Not only did I *go* places, I actually went to the library(ies) too! One thing I've learned, reading in French takes me a long time. Another thing: F.A.S.T.I. is pretty sweet.
Most importantly, the World Cup finals are on Sunday! !! ! !!
Not only that, but I got a better idea of just how exactly La Cimade's hours worked (don't ask; they don't really make sense). After returning home and watching the unfortunate loss of Germany to Spain (although good for Montpellier with its many Spain supporters), I woke up early to head to the hip Beaux Arts district. There, I did indeed find La Cimade open and operating with a legal counsel session in session (based rhymes) and the responsable, the director, essentially chilling in his office. I spoke with M. Jean-Paul Nuñez only for a few, maybe ten, minutes, regarding my identity and my research aims. I will meet with him more extensively this coming Monday and hopefully will be able to conduct a more formal, key-informant style interview with him. (One concern: my research aim isn't totally solidified, or maybe it is.)
Before I continue forward in my recounting, let me step backward and describe La Paillade (see Facebook for photos). It was about as much like the familiar American "hood" (parts of the South Side of Chicago, my neighborhood in Nashville) as Montpellier could possibly become, with trash and a sense of abandon littered around the streets below public housing. Interestingly, for all those who were curious, La Paillade is probably not a food desert; its main commercial center had a supermarket and a wealth of fresh produce in small convenience stores (including a delicious nectarine). I hope to return and talk to people in the administrative building to find out more about the population and related issues (and maybe eventually do a questionnaire? [I can only hope.])
Not only did I *go* places, I actually went to the library(ies) too! One thing I've learned, reading in French takes me a long time. Another thing: F.A.S.T.I. is pretty sweet.
Most importantly, the World Cup finals are on Sunday! !! ! !!
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Last Few Days (Perpignan)
I'll start by saying I just uploaded over 100 photos (and some videos) to Facebook that neatly document the last few days from Friday until today (Sunday). Go check those out if you can.
Friday was a World Cup and Estivales day that was typically leisurely and fun. Saturday was a trip to Perpignan/Sainte Colombe day which was atypically travel heavy, but an amazing trip. After arriving at the grandparent's, Andrea dropped me off in Perpignan where I took pictures and explored the labyrinthine downtown. Once I grew tired of exploration, I found myself drinking a beer and watching Germany SMASH Argentina in the World Cup.
Post-Perpignan was the village festival in Sainte Colombe de la Commanderie. All the residents of the village (plus some apparent strangers) came to eat, drink and dance (all 50 residents were there...maybe a bit more like 60). Despite the strange opening band playing sad, emotional ballad rock, the music afterward was appropriately cheesy. After the fête, I returned to the house (in Sainte Colombe) and discussed Knock-Knock jokes and their French equivalent (both equally unfunny). After staying up late to watch Amélie (for the first time in a while), I woke up early to realize it was July 4th! Oh well.
Before heading back to Montpellier, Andrea and I stopped in Castelnou (one of the most beautiful villages in France [it shows]) to take some pictures (really for me to take pictures). All in all, the various sights, tastes and sounds made this weekend the most surreal experience for me so far in France. Keep it coming!
P.S. Starting research officially tomorrow. Going to CIMADE offices.
Friday was a World Cup and Estivales day that was typically leisurely and fun. Saturday was a trip to Perpignan/Sainte Colombe day which was atypically travel heavy, but an amazing trip. After arriving at the grandparent's, Andrea dropped me off in Perpignan where I took pictures and explored the labyrinthine downtown. Once I grew tired of exploration, I found myself drinking a beer and watching Germany SMASH Argentina in the World Cup.
Post-Perpignan was the village festival in Sainte Colombe de la Commanderie. All the residents of the village (plus some apparent strangers) came to eat, drink and dance (all 50 residents were there...maybe a bit more like 60). Despite the strange opening band playing sad, emotional ballad rock, the music afterward was appropriately cheesy. After the fête, I returned to the house (in Sainte Colombe) and discussed Knock-Knock jokes and their French equivalent (both equally unfunny). After staying up late to watch Amélie (for the first time in a while), I woke up early to realize it was July 4th! Oh well.
Before heading back to Montpellier, Andrea and I stopped in Castelnou (one of the most beautiful villages in France [it shows]) to take some pictures (really for me to take pictures). All in all, the various sights, tastes and sounds made this weekend the most surreal experience for me so far in France. Keep it coming!
P.S. Starting research officially tomorrow. Going to CIMADE offices.
Friday, July 2, 2010
O-Week Approaching its End
After much relaxing, bathing at the beach, watching TV, making s'mores (at least a tasty, French approximation of the American classic) and sleeping, I feel that perhaps it might be time for me to venture en ville. Not only will libraries be open (for a brief time), but I also have been informed of CIMADE's branch in Montpellier. While they focus more on handling the rights of migrants within France, they have devoted a significant portion of their webpage (at least) to development issues. I feel that my research *in* France should reflect issues relevant in France to derive the most value from my travel. At the same time, I'm more interested (now) in the concept of mutual codevelopment and its efficacy in both the reduction of illegal immigration into France and the quantifiable amelioration of living conditions in countries of origin.
Other than the government's explicit commitment in its développement solidaire branch of the Ministry of Immigration, I have discovered there are numerous NGOs (as I should have guessed) who have partnered to better aid the development of countries of origin. One thing I'd be interested in investigating is the extent to which these NGOs influence the Ministry of Immigration's plans for codevelopment. I can guess that it's quite a lot, for a conference regarding the launch of envoidargent.fr (a government sponsored legitimization of remittances website) is being held at the Agence Française du Développement offices in Paris.
At any rate, I question how much work I can really get done today (other than a bit of reading) because the World Cup matches beckon. For today's results I guess Brazil and Uruguay but it would be nice if the Netherlands or Ghana managed to pull of a win (especially for Ghana, it being an African country and all). I can only hope that after this weekend I will emerge resolute in my efforts to truly accomplish some meaningful research here, and I hope to start by dropping by the CIMADE office here in Montpellier to find the best ways to get in touch with the right people.
Other than the government's explicit commitment in its développement solidaire branch of the Ministry of Immigration, I have discovered there are numerous NGOs (as I should have guessed) who have partnered to better aid the development of countries of origin. One thing I'd be interested in investigating is the extent to which these NGOs influence the Ministry of Immigration's plans for codevelopment. I can guess that it's quite a lot, for a conference regarding the launch of envoidargent.fr (a government sponsored legitimization of remittances website) is being held at the Agence Française du Développement offices in Paris.
At any rate, I question how much work I can really get done today (other than a bit of reading) because the World Cup matches beckon. For today's results I guess Brazil and Uruguay but it would be nice if the Netherlands or Ghana managed to pull of a win (especially for Ghana, it being an African country and all). I can only hope that after this weekend I will emerge resolute in my efforts to truly accomplish some meaningful research here, and I hope to start by dropping by the CIMADE office here in Montpellier to find the best ways to get in touch with the right people.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
La Tempête
Yesterday (Tuesday), I went on a bike ride to the beach at the Mediterranean coast here in Montpellier. The ride there was mostly pleasant save for the seemingly relentless onslaught of road construction. After a brief soaking in the waters of the Mediterranean and the filtered (by the clouds) beams of the sun, I noticed some thunder. The storm was approaching. As soon as the first droplets of water landed in the sand, we (myself and Andrea) gathered our things and began to leave the beach. The storm intensified. In seconds there was hail and a torrential downpour with strong winds of Biblical proportion; Aeolus' rage even cast a plastic bench flying sideways. Fortunately, we, like several other beach goers, made it under the flimsy roof of a little food shop called Miam Miam.
The storm lasted not more than thirty minutes, and when the clouds cleared and I finished the café I ordered at Miam Miam, we were on our way. The ride back was fairly cool, and I was refreshingly physically tired when I returned "home." This sort of tired is quite different than the tired I experienced moving lots of things from one third floor apartment to another for like 14 hours (or however long it was)...
Regardless, it was a good day despite the storm. I also discussed later the meaning of the private school in France. I discovered that the teachers in private schools are paid by the State, and that all private schools must subscribe to the same core, base curriculum (to which they can add their own instruction, but from which they cannot deviate). I was told this somewhat confusing process of state sponsored instruction in private (i.e. religious [although not always]) schools has a long history revolving around the power relationship between the Catholic church and the lay government. I should really get some books soon, to help me get a better background in all of this whole dang-ole France deal.
The storm lasted not more than thirty minutes, and when the clouds cleared and I finished the café I ordered at Miam Miam, we were on our way. The ride back was fairly cool, and I was refreshingly physically tired when I returned "home." This sort of tired is quite different than the tired I experienced moving lots of things from one third floor apartment to another for like 14 hours (or however long it was)...
Regardless, it was a good day despite the storm. I also discussed later the meaning of the private school in France. I discovered that the teachers in private schools are paid by the State, and that all private schools must subscribe to the same core, base curriculum (to which they can add their own instruction, but from which they cannot deviate). I was told this somewhat confusing process of state sponsored instruction in private (i.e. religious [although not always]) schools has a long history revolving around the power relationship between the Catholic church and the lay government. I should really get some books soon, to help me get a better background in all of this whole dang-ole France deal.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
La Riviere, Pancakes et Exploration
I'm still in Orientation week here in France as I realized yesterday in my exploration in search of a library that they were all generally closed this week for various reasons.
Saturday, I went to la rivière and swam in chilly water that reminded me of the creeks in Tennessee. The landscape (see Facebook) was similar to what you might imagine the South of France looking like (perhaps from a film), only better.
Sunday was a day for relaxation and World Cup watching and I relaxed and thought about my research plans for Monday. Fortunately, that night, I (innocently) provoked a conversation on various hot topics relating to French immigration policy and tried to learn or at least reaffirm what I had read about the various positions with respect to the integration of immigrants in France. The discussion touched on what I see as the crux of the problem: a disconnect between the strongly pronounced moral code of French society and their actions resulting from the enforcement of their immigration (and integration) policy.
Monday, I explored. But first, I assisted in the making of pancakes (see Facebook) and they were DELICIOUS (see Facebook). Next time I'll try to make those kitchen sink oatmeal cookies if I can find the right ingredients at the marché. S'mores are also on the horizon... Mmm. America. Returning to Monday, I decided to venture to the library(ies) where I could go to do research. UM I was closed for a week, so I trekked to UM III Paul Valéry in the cute trolley thing in the city and ended up at UM II. I stumbled around until I found UM III and then *really* stumbled around (it was quite hot) until I found the library at Paul Valéry. It was also closed. Determined not to waste my entire afternoon, I decided to find my old école maternelle - École St. Odile. I decided to just find it, like holistic detective Dirk Gently of Douglas Adams' two wonderful non-Hitchhiker's Guide related books. That did not work. So, I proceeded back to Paul Valéry's little roundabout and asked at a magazine store. She informed me with *great* detail and poetic phrasing. "Go left out here, then go straight until you reach a light. Then continue straight! Then continue straight until you reach an small olive tree in the center of a roundabout. There, you go straight again and it's on your left." I did indeed go straight, and I did indeed find l'école. The neighborhood did not ring any particular bells and the school seemed far more urban than I had remembered, with very little trees to corroborate my memory of the bullies shoving pine needles down my throat until I threw up. Nonetheless, I took a photo of myself in front of the school for comparison to an older photo (see Facebook).
Monday night, I went to The Australian, a bar close to Rue de Canepetières, and drank some pretty poor 1 euro beer for a Monday night special. I would have protested more had it been more than 1 euro, but it was not. If I learned anything Monday night it would be that you should do yourself a favor and avoid Carlsberg beer. After returning from Australia, I watched a movie, Delicatessen, on Orange's version on On-Demand. If you haven't seen it yet, make sure you watch it *right* before you go to bed. It was one of the more unsettling films I've seen, but it's absurdism reminded me of Ionesco and that made me fairly happy. If I were to write an equation to describe it, it would be something like: Sweeney Todd + David Lynch + Ionesco + World War II.
At any rate, it's now Tuesday, and I have a bit more to do during what has been forced upon me as Orientation week (thanks to library closures and the limitations of my French speaking).
Saturday, I went to la rivière and swam in chilly water that reminded me of the creeks in Tennessee. The landscape (see Facebook) was similar to what you might imagine the South of France looking like (perhaps from a film), only better.
Sunday was a day for relaxation and World Cup watching and I relaxed and thought about my research plans for Monday. Fortunately, that night, I (innocently) provoked a conversation on various hot topics relating to French immigration policy and tried to learn or at least reaffirm what I had read about the various positions with respect to the integration of immigrants in France. The discussion touched on what I see as the crux of the problem: a disconnect between the strongly pronounced moral code of French society and their actions resulting from the enforcement of their immigration (and integration) policy.
Monday, I explored. But first, I assisted in the making of pancakes (see Facebook) and they were DELICIOUS (see Facebook). Next time I'll try to make those kitchen sink oatmeal cookies if I can find the right ingredients at the marché. S'mores are also on the horizon... Mmm. America. Returning to Monday, I decided to venture to the library(ies) where I could go to do research. UM I was closed for a week, so I trekked to UM III Paul Valéry in the cute trolley thing in the city and ended up at UM II. I stumbled around until I found UM III and then *really* stumbled around (it was quite hot) until I found the library at Paul Valéry. It was also closed. Determined not to waste my entire afternoon, I decided to find my old école maternelle - École St. Odile. I decided to just find it, like holistic detective Dirk Gently of Douglas Adams' two wonderful non-Hitchhiker's Guide related books. That did not work. So, I proceeded back to Paul Valéry's little roundabout and asked at a magazine store. She informed me with *great* detail and poetic phrasing. "Go left out here, then go straight until you reach a light. Then continue straight! Then continue straight until you reach an small olive tree in the center of a roundabout. There, you go straight again and it's on your left." I did indeed go straight, and I did indeed find l'école. The neighborhood did not ring any particular bells and the school seemed far more urban than I had remembered, with very little trees to corroborate my memory of the bullies shoving pine needles down my throat until I threw up. Nonetheless, I took a photo of myself in front of the school for comparison to an older photo (see Facebook).
Monday night, I went to The Australian, a bar close to Rue de Canepetières, and drank some pretty poor 1 euro beer for a Monday night special. I would have protested more had it been more than 1 euro, but it was not. If I learned anything Monday night it would be that you should do yourself a favor and avoid Carlsberg beer. After returning from Australia, I watched a movie, Delicatessen, on Orange's version on On-Demand. If you haven't seen it yet, make sure you watch it *right* before you go to bed. It was one of the more unsettling films I've seen, but it's absurdism reminded me of Ionesco and that made me fairly happy. If I were to write an equation to describe it, it would be something like: Sweeney Todd + David Lynch + Ionesco + World War II.
At any rate, it's now Tuesday, and I have a bit more to do during what has been forced upon me as Orientation week (thanks to library closures and the limitations of my French speaking).
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Getting to Montpellier and the First Day
My connecting flight to Paris from Heathrow was refreshingly quick and smashingly British. I overheard this cute, old British couple cracking jokes about the national strike in France that day (see pics on Fbook). I wish I could remember his exact phrasing, but I can't. At most I can say that it was *delicously* British.
Upon arrival in CDG, I managed to make my way through the passport line and then completely skip the place to pick up my baggage. I walked right through the exit assuming my baggage was just on the other side of two sliding glass doors, only to find that, in fact, it was not. It was to the left. So, I had to sneak back in the glass doors and glide past security to get my bag. Pas de problème.
My secret agent skills continued on the TGV from Paris to Montpellier; they were cultivated by the national strike. I had (wrongly) selected a method of picking up my ticket that required a ticket window and not simply the self-service kiosks smattered around the train station. Unfortunately for me, all of the ticket windows were closed due to the strike, as I was oft-reminded over the loudspeaker. Fortunately for me, none of the trains had controllers to check the tickets (as they were also on strike).
The TGV was a surprisingly quiet ride (see Fbook for video + pics) and I made my way into Montpellier at around 10 PM. My first discovery was that my French was more rusty than I had imagined. My second discovery was that the weather is quite nice in Montpellier. Those two distracting non-sequiturs aside, upon arrival, I was greeted by my gracious hosts and I slept well in the maisonette. The next day, yesterday, I took a tour of Montpellier on foot and, typically, forgot to bring my camera along to meticulously document each step.
Afterward, I went to watch the World Cup match (Chile vs. Spain) on the big screens stationed at one of the many bars in downtown Montpellier (they rotate for each night [I think]). After an exciting match, I went with one of my hosts and her friends to Les Estivals, a summer music, wine and food festival in a park. It occurs every Friday in the summer and involves lots of wine consumption and comparatively very little music listening. Today, I sort of woke up at a normal time (6 then 9) and hope to soon arrive at some sort of sleep schedule that makes sense.
As for the research, that I hope to start soon, but I'd like to refine my French to an acceptable level. I give myself about five days for that... I'll probably start by going to the huge library here and see what I can dig up.
Upon arrival in CDG, I managed to make my way through the passport line and then completely skip the place to pick up my baggage. I walked right through the exit assuming my baggage was just on the other side of two sliding glass doors, only to find that, in fact, it was not. It was to the left. So, I had to sneak back in the glass doors and glide past security to get my bag. Pas de problème.
My secret agent skills continued on the TGV from Paris to Montpellier; they were cultivated by the national strike. I had (wrongly) selected a method of picking up my ticket that required a ticket window and not simply the self-service kiosks smattered around the train station. Unfortunately for me, all of the ticket windows were closed due to the strike, as I was oft-reminded over the loudspeaker. Fortunately for me, none of the trains had controllers to check the tickets (as they were also on strike).
The TGV was a surprisingly quiet ride (see Fbook for video + pics) and I made my way into Montpellier at around 10 PM. My first discovery was that my French was more rusty than I had imagined. My second discovery was that the weather is quite nice in Montpellier. Those two distracting non-sequiturs aside, upon arrival, I was greeted by my gracious hosts and I slept well in the maisonette. The next day, yesterday, I took a tour of Montpellier on foot and, typically, forgot to bring my camera along to meticulously document each step.
Afterward, I went to watch the World Cup match (Chile vs. Spain) on the big screens stationed at one of the many bars in downtown Montpellier (they rotate for each night [I think]). After an exciting match, I went with one of my hosts and her friends to Les Estivals, a summer music, wine and food festival in a park. It occurs every Friday in the summer and involves lots of wine consumption and comparatively very little music listening. Today, I sort of woke up at a normal time (6 then 9) and hope to soon arrive at some sort of sleep schedule that makes sense.
As for the research, that I hope to start soon, but I'd like to refine my French to an acceptable level. I give myself about five days for that... I'll probably start by going to the huge library here and see what I can dig up.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Travel Saga Part Two: Sittin' In Heathrow
My flight was uneventful (regrettably?) and I now wait in this strange glass house they call Heathrow Terminal 5. Literally, the most exciting thing that happened to me on the flight was that I was A. listening to DJ Nate (DA TRAK GENIOUS) and B. I was sitting next to a Swedish national handball team member with giant biceps (C. I picked a scab that bled a lot).
I grabbed a pint of Murphy's at the "bar" in Terminal 5 (because I could) and brushed my teeth. (Exciting stuff!!) Currently waiting for my gate to become available for my flight to Paris. Let's hope that my train ride to Montpellier is one of the five that exist today as a result of the national strike.
I should probably listen to some dubstep now, or something.
I grabbed a pint of Murphy's at the "bar" in Terminal 5 (because I could) and brushed my teeth. (Exciting stuff!!) Currently waiting for my gate to become available for my flight to Paris. Let's hope that my train ride to Montpellier is one of the five that exist today as a result of the national strike.
I should probably listen to some dubstep now, or something.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Travel Saga Part One: The Hound
Nothing starts a journey better than an early start at 4 AM sans café au lait (comme d'habitude). After rolling out of bed and handling my emails, where more magnificent to wallow in my exhaustion than the Nashville Greyhound station? If you haven't been, I should warn you that the following description may be graphic at times.
The cluster of smoking, skulking degenerates brooded aggressively as I unloaded my bags and bid farewell to my parental units, but I remained strong and courageous as I briskly crossed the line from regular Nashville to what I've affectionately called "Hell." In Hell, nothing is fully constructed. In Hell, no human being is intelligible over a loudspeaker. In Hell, your destination doesn't matter, nor do your bags. In Hell, etc.
Beelzebub approached me with his bleached blonde, slicked-back hair and popped some pills into his mouth from out of his Hawaiian shirt pocket. As he stumbled away to stare blankly at the SportsCenter on infinite loop, I cried a little inside. Should I actually show my tears, the demons would lap away at my wetted cheeks, or so I thought.
Finally, the moment arrived. It was 6 AM and my bus was scheduled to leave. But where was it? Oh, it's running two hours behind schedule? I see! I forgot I was in Hell. Well, that's fine, I'll just wait until 8 AM to leave.
Once I left Hell, things only got better. I made friends with a young Chicago resident and discussed the finer points of footworkin', mountain lions, Waka Flocka Flame and kudzoo.
As I arrived in Atlanta at 2:30 (instead of noon), I decided to get my cousin to take me to lunch/dinner instead of taking another bus. This was an excellent idea. We left for my other cousin's and I admired the cats, the beer and the pizza. After family time, I proceeded to the airport and I now await the departure of my plane to Heathrow. More later...
The cluster of smoking, skulking degenerates brooded aggressively as I unloaded my bags and bid farewell to my parental units, but I remained strong and courageous as I briskly crossed the line from regular Nashville to what I've affectionately called "Hell." In Hell, nothing is fully constructed. In Hell, no human being is intelligible over a loudspeaker. In Hell, your destination doesn't matter, nor do your bags. In Hell, etc.
Beelzebub approached me with his bleached blonde, slicked-back hair and popped some pills into his mouth from out of his Hawaiian shirt pocket. As he stumbled away to stare blankly at the SportsCenter on infinite loop, I cried a little inside. Should I actually show my tears, the demons would lap away at my wetted cheeks, or so I thought.
Finally, the moment arrived. It was 6 AM and my bus was scheduled to leave. But where was it? Oh, it's running two hours behind schedule? I see! I forgot I was in Hell. Well, that's fine, I'll just wait until 8 AM to leave.
Once I left Hell, things only got better. I made friends with a young Chicago resident and discussed the finer points of footworkin', mountain lions, Waka Flocka Flame and kudzoo.
As I arrived in Atlanta at 2:30 (instead of noon), I decided to get my cousin to take me to lunch/dinner instead of taking another bus. This was an excellent idea. We left for my other cousin's and I admired the cats, the beer and the pizza. After family time, I proceeded to the airport and I now await the departure of my plane to Heathrow. More later...
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