PostBlog from Paris: This City is Kicking My Ass, but the People Are Not

When I lived in New York City I made fun of the tourists who went on the Circle Line Tours. I could never so obviously be a tourist, If I ever had any pride, I'd have to blend in.

I've changed my tune.

First of all, we don't blend in here in France. We must smell American. The minute we walk into a restaurant, before we open our mouths or do anything at all, they take one look and hand us the English version of the menu. I don't know why. (Point of accuracy - Clyde says it doesn't happen everywhere, and it's usually because we're wearing backpacks. Fine, if you want accuracy, read the New York Times ...)

So you can read about Paris dozens of other places. I'll just tell you that the first day, we walked and walked and walked and walked and walked. The metro (subway) sped things up a little, but we really put some miles on the old dogs. The second day, we bought some shoe insert thingies to soften our instep because our feet were so sore, I personally thought I couldn't go on. The pain was nearly unbearable. I also needed to buy band-aids for my toes which were blistering, Hey, I understand that people in Paris have suffered through some tough times (I've learned at various historical sites). But did they ever have to stand in line on sore feet to get into Notre Dame, only to stand and walk, stand and walk, stand some more and walk slowly around from Saint to Saint once they got inside?

Long story short (too late, I know), Clyde and I and spent 37 Euros apiece for a two day pass on the L'Open Tours bus which drives around the city to all the major tourist sites. You can jump off the bus whenever you want and get back on when you're done seeing the sight you wanted to see. Or, if your feet are killing you, you can just stay on the bus and ride around, listening on the headphones which plug into a jack located by each seat which, depending on the channel you select, tells you about whatever you are driving by in whatever language you speak.

Sometimes it's hard to make up your mind. True conversation: "Here's the stop for the Eiffel Tower. Should we get off?" "I don't know. Look. They have ice cream." "Ok."

I hope I never meet Rick Steves and have to confess I did such a thing, but there you are. I saw more in one day on that bus than I otherwise would have seen in a week, including the outside of the Moulin Rouge, crowds lining up at Sacre Coeur, Napoleon's Tomb, and the art deco cinema with the largest screen in Europe. At €37, that's a bargain.

A Note About the French

Clyde and I feel strongly that Americans are stupid. Ok. Not all Americans. Just the ones that complain about how rude the French are. We have seen absolutely no evidence, whatsoever, to support that stereotype. The people we have met, including and especially waiters, have been courteous, helpful, and tolerant as we struggle to communicate and deal with unfamiliar currency. The advice has been that if you make an effort with them by trying a few French words, minding your own manners, and smiling graciously, they will return the favor with kindness and helpfulness, even speaking English if the can. On the other hand, if you act like a boorish, entitled asshole American, then why shouldn't they be rude back to you?

My favorite experience with this so far has been the server who struggled with her English but tried very hard to use it with us. Clyde gave her our order in French, asking questions and getting clarification on a few of the menu items. Throughout the meal, she returned to us a few times, each time attempting to speak English to us before remembering that she could speak French to Clyde. Her impulse was to make us more comfortable before remembering that she didn't need to struggle to speak.

End of sermon.

So Paris has kicked my ass but the Parisians have not. The people here have made the exhausting, painful experience of walking all over the city easier by their friendliness and good manners.

Postblog from the French Riviera: In Search of White Ladies

Rick Steves would be so proud. Ok, no he probably wouldn't. We haven't done much of anything on the first part of our honeymoon in France except eat, sleep, lounge on the private beach and the pool of our hotel, and other honeymoon things.

We have ventured out a little on foot into a couple of the neighboring villages near Nice, including a beautiful walking trail along the Mediterranean Sea encompassing views of nearby cliffs, colorful villas, enormous yachts,  and of course the blue-green water that once stirred the imaginations of the ancient Greeks and Romans. But European cliches aside, I have been anxious to delve into the real France and observe what really makes this place tick, just as Rick Steves inspires us.

My first observation upon arriving in France was that at first, I saw very few French people. That was at the airport. Once we got to Nice and the Hotel Riviera in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat, there were French, British, and American people all mixed together. This is a pretty touristy area.

Some other observations:

• All those French words I learned in high school really work! People understand me when I use them here! They aren't fake, just like the Euros that come out of the ATM work like real money!
• It's true: if you try to politely speak French first, the French will politely try to help and even speak English back to you if they can. They are very nice people and only hate Americans when we are rude and entitled, like the guy who snapped his fingers at breakfast this morning and shouted to the waiter, "COFFEE!"
• This part of France has very wealthy people in it. They are mostly Arab and Russian. I know this because when you walk by a real estate office, the listings are mostly in  Russian. Also, the taxi driver told us. He told us a lot of stuff on the drive from the airport.
• My nutritionist, the one who is helping me lose weight, says she doesn't know anyone who has gained weight in France because the food is more natural and the portions more sensible. I am out to prove her wrong. The food may be less processed, but the portions have been generous and I have been eating like a pig. The croissants have been especially good. And the yogurt. And the bread. And the cheese. We'll see what happens when I weigh in once I'm home.

But the biggest surprise so far: an illusive and mysterious phenomenon, so compelling that we have walked miles, day and night to find it. I'm talking about the Dame Blanche, or White Lady. No, I haven't become a racist heterosexual. It is an ice cream sundae made with the finest coffee flavored ice cream (subtle, not overpowering coffee flavor), the highest quality chocolate sauce, topped with a huge pile of delightful chantilly whipped cream. I don't know, maybe it's just because I'm in France, but it seems so much better than the same thing at home. The ice cream is creamier. The chocolate is not that cheap syrupy stuff we are used to. 

We were seduced by the white lady our first dinner out. The next evening, we walked along the seaside walkway into a neighboring village and stumbled onto a sidewalk establishment with a neon sign that said, "Bar" and "Glace" (which means ice cream). We looked on the menu and sure enough, there she was: Dame Blanche. We sat at a table, mouths watering in anticipation. But we were too late. The water explained that no more ice cream would be served that late at night. 

Crushed, we vowed to return the next day. After a morning of reading and napping at the hotel pool, we motivated ourselves to hike back to that village where we triumphantly had a token sandwich for lunch, followed by a main course of the seductive white lady. 

You know, it was pretty good, but not as good as the first one. 

Phyllis Schlafly Was Pure Evil, But Jesus Loves Her Anyway

Phyllis Schlafly is finally dead.

Ding dong.

She was one of the worst, WORST, examples of a human being claiming to be a Christian I can think of, right up there with Jerry Falwell and others of their ilk. She was notoriously homophobic and anti-feminist. She is most well known for the defeat of the Equal Rights Amendment but she did plenty of other damage as well.

I don't want to talk about her any more except to say that I hated her for the harm she did to people like me and the people I love. I could never forgive the awful things she did and the horrible things she said.

If I believed people could go to Hell when they died, I would revel in the thought of her burning there for all eternity.

But I don't.

A fundamental part of my Christian belief is that God extends grace and salvation to everyone (now whatever that is, whatever that means is open to interpretation).

As one of my friends posted on Facebook today, "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus." Romans 3:23-24.

You see, though I, like Phyllis, have hate in my heart; though I cannot see past my anger and inability to forgive; though I am blinded by rage at this horrible, horrible woman, I realize that God is bigger than I am.

God is bigger than my fear and rage and hate. God's grace is vast enough to encompass and forgive both Phyllis and me in spite of our sin, that which separates us from God's love.

When I calm down, I might pray that as Phyllis transitions into the next phase of her existence, her spite and hate might give way to real peace and love, that the light of true grace might shine where the darkness in her soul once resided.

I might pray the same for myself and all the rest of us as well.

Summer TV Dearth Calls for Alternative Entertainment

It's summertime during an Olympics year. So basically there's nothing good to watch on TV. I have no interest whatsoever in the over-hyped racket that is the summer games. Reruns of favorite shows only go so far and a person can only binge on so much Netflix before it seems like everything has been watched. I have already finished the entire first season of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. So while Clyde studies Greek on the sofa next to me, I have to find new ways to entertain myself. I reach for the computer and stumble on to:

Old documentaries on YouTube.

Favorites include old films about transportation, the miracle of modern travel by car or train in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s.  There's one about taking a bus from New York to Pittsburgh. What an adventure it is! Everyone is all dressed up - the ladies in dresses, the boys and men in jackets and ties. Everyone is so polite. Everyone is white. Did people really dress like that to take the bus? Of course, other black and white YouTube videos tell me that the really modern way to travel is by plane. Women in the 1940s wear their best furs as they board the sleek, shiny DC-3. The air-hostess pours coffee into a delicate china cup on a dry saucer. There is no hint of turbulence or air-sickness. Only the promise of a four course meal as the trip from one coast to another is cut by three days compared to that silly old-fashioned train on the ground. It certainly doesn't look like flying today, where you bring your own sandwich smashed into your carry-on and the other passengers wear flip-flops and tank tops as they reach over your head to jam their luggage into the overhead bin.

My other favorites are those films made in the early and mid 20th century about "the future" - the year 2000 and beyond. Amazingly, they predict some of our technology pretty accurately. One series done by Walter Cronkite in the 1960s, predicts reading the newspaper online, accessing your office without leaving home, and quickly cooking a meal with a microwave oven. What the futuristic films fail to take into account is the social change that also occurs before the 21st century. For example, in the futuristic kitchen where a meal practically prepares itself, it's always a full time, stay at home housewife in pearls and an apron who pushes the button after she finds out via video-phone what her husband wants for dinner.

It's also fun to watch the old sex education films. To think that some of them are probably still in use today.

I don't just watch old stuff on YouTube.

In light of where Clyde and I are planning to honeymoon next month, I've recently watched some helpful videos on how to be a good tourist in France. For example, I've learned that in restaurants, you don't get the check until you ask for it. Many an American tourist waits and waits and waits for the check, expecting it will just appear like it does at home. It's one of those little differences that leads to unnecessary misunderstanding and frustration between nations.

Just for fun, I decided to look at a video advising visitors to the United States. Do you know what frustrates them more than anything? Is it that we have a myopic world view or don't speak other languages? Is it that we're loud and boastful and think that we own the whole world? Nope. Foreign visitors hate our sales tax. Think about it. The price tag says one thing, but when you go to pay for it, you have to pay more. Wouldn't that just aggravate the hell out of you if you weren't used to it?

You can learn anything from watching YouTube. You can learn how to tie a tie, how to clean your bathroom, or how to make a paper airplane.

When our oven didn't work one night, we found a video about a similar problem on the same model and learned how to fix it. Of course we didn't actually fix the oven because we don't have any tools, but we at least had an idea about what was wrong with it.

I recently stumbled onto a series about personal grooming, including some tips about shaving that my father never taught me. Let's just say that some people groom areas of their bodies these days that Dad probably never thought to do.

I haven't even begun to scratch the surface. There are more hours of entertainment, news, cat videos, and other countless ways to pass summer evenings than I could ever imagine. Who needs to watch the Olympics  on TV anyway? If I want, I can just catch the highlights on YouTube.

Expecting Gunfire is Normal Now

A piercing, ear splitting sound crashes through my head. It is accompanied by bright blue flashing lights from red fixtures placed every few meters along the wall. As I recover from temporary disorientation, the sound is interrupted by an electronic voice saying, "There is an emergency reported in the building. Please evacuate immediately. Do not use the elevators. Please evacuate immediately."

It's always the worst possible time. Usually I have had to go to the bathroom for a while and I've been putting it off. Now, who knows when I'll get another chance. I pull myself from the project I've been concentrating on, lock my computer screen, and zip up my back pack - I'm not leaving the building without my back pack. Sorry if that's frowned upon. If this is a real emergency, I may never see my personal belongings again.

Hundreds of us slowly file down flights of stairs, masses merging calmly from each lower floor we pass. We are composed. We are pretty sure it's a drill. We don't hear shooting. We don't smell smoke.

That's right. In addition to sniffing for smoke, we listen for gun shots.

What used to be known as a fire drill is now a more general evacuation exercise. After all, it seems just as likely to be someone in the building with a gun as it is a fire.

It has come to this in 21st century America. Angry or crazy people brandishing guns in public are normal enough that companies have procedures in place for responding to it.

My job consists largely of designing computer based training for employees. A lot of it is very technical and dry. Once in a while, however, I get to do something more interesting, such as a presentation on how to handle inter-generational situations or the best way to conduct a job interview.

But when asked recently to create training for what to do if an active shooter enters the building, that was a little too exciting. Apparently Homeland Security and some police departments around the country have issued guidelines which we could draw on. And oh, I was instructed, don't make it scary.

Right.

Shootings in public places occur so regularly that we only hear about the really extreme ones now. Recently, a building in downtown Denver was evacuated because a woman was shot in her office. She was the only "victim," though I would argue that everyone nearby was also victimized. It was not even the top story on the local news that night.

It's so common to have a shooting at the office, school, movie, mall, church, or night club, that we aren't surprised to hear about it any more.

We are afraid maybe, but not surprised. I hope we are still horrified, that we haven't become numb.

Gun violence is normal in the United States. This doesn't happen to the same extent in other civilized countries. Sensible people already understand why. A vocal and organized minority controls and intimidates the majority of politicians in power so that nothing can change. Until the NRA is out-organized and defeated by the more lackluster majority of citizens, the insanity of our gun culture will continue.

I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said already. I guess I just feel like it has to be said again and again until something changes.

Understanding Bridezilla's Point of View

I heard an interesting theory the other day: a justification for the high cost of wedding services.

As Clyde and I prepare for our September ceremony, I've noticed in my research on invitations to caterers, how much everything costs. And when you put the word "wedding" in front of it, it's twice as expensive or more. It's what I call the over priced and over hyped "Wedding-Industrial Complex."

So the justification for this inflating, this nuptial gouging, from dress makers to cake bakers, is: that brides are especially difficult customers. With the singular goal of having THE perfect wedding, these "bridezillas" are impossible to please. They demand way more time than the average customer, they change orders at the last minute, and they are bitchy. Throw in their mothers, future mothers-in-law, and a couple of "helpful" bridesmaids, those poor vendors have their work cut out for them.

Point taken. And by the way, let's face it, the grooms are usually absent at this stage of the planning, unless there are only grooms in which case ...

So anyway, I am not ready to excuse the excesses of the WIC. I still think it's a huge rip off. I have a co-worker who spent $24,000 (yes, twenty-four thousand dollars) on his wife's engagement ring last year. I asked him why he didn't just buy her a wedding car. He also told me how much they spent on invitations, the wedding venue, the amount of money per guest at the formal sit down dinner, and the honeymoon in Mexico. It was jaw dropping.

He asked how much Clyde and I were spending. When I told him that we bought a kit on Amazon and printed invitations at home for about $25, his jaw hit the floor.

We're trying to spend money wisely. The wedding will be small - just some family and a few very close friends. We won't have a formal dinner, just some nibbles and a cake at the reception.

We're splurging on a few things, of course. We're going to buy new suits - sensible ones that we can use again. Not that I will - I haven't owned a suit in decades.

I can see the points of view of wedding vendors. I wouldn't have the patience to deal with a bridezilla.

I can also sort of relate to the bridezillas. I haven't had a melt down in a bridal shop, yet, but I do want things to go well. Even a simple wedding is stressful. There are lots little things to take care of.

For example, when we first made a list of what we needed to do, we remembered important details like meeting with the priest, planning  a honeymoon, and buying rings, but we didn't remember that we need to get a marriage license, the part that makes this LEGAL. I have no idea how or where to get it. It simply hasn't been part of my experience. I assume we go to the city and county building, but beyond that, I'm pretty clueless. What does it cost? Do we both need to go? How far ahead do we need to do it? And flowers. One of our church friends asked what we planned to do about flowers. Flowers? Huh. What else are we forgetting?

We have some advantages that most brides don't have. We're men for one thing. Unlike many little girls, neither Clyde nor I grew up dreaming of our wedding with a thousand little fantasies to live up to. Perhaps some gay men did, but we didn't. My fantasy growing up was just to have my own apartment and a boyfriend. Done and done. I never imagined I could have a legal, church sanctioned wedding. This is gravy as far as I'm concerned.

Another advantage is that we're older. We have some perspective that young couples may not have. We know things don't always go as planned and we're pretty ok with that. Our priest told us that the important thing to remember is that if she shows up (and she promises she will) and the two of us show up, we'll get married. That's all that really matters.

Caught Between a Dumbass and a "Bitch" - Does it Really Matter?

As often happens, the office chatter around me zeroed in on this year's unusual presidential election. Typical of the national conversation, my coworkers could neither comprehend ignorant dumb ass Donald Trump, nor could they fathom a bitch like Hillary Clinton at the presidential helm.

With earphones stuck to my head and my eyes glued to the monitors, I really tried to stay out of it. No one's mind is ever changed by these conversations, and while most of the others treat the topic as casually as they do a jawing about local sports, I would just get really mad and take it personally if I got involved.

But when one of the senior managers pronounced that in fact, it didn't really matter who was elected because none of our lives would actually change based on the outcome, I just about boiled over.

"That's easy to say if you're a straight, white man who has lived in privilege all his life," I fumed. "You take your wife for granted and you don't have to worry that the next Supreme Court appointment could lead to the invalidation of your legal marriage. You have never had your civil rights threatened by a majority vote of your fellow citizens. You have never been threatened with ejection from your home country just because your parents immigrated without proper papers when you were too young to understand what was happening. You were never denied the right to vote just because you didn't have a current driver's licence..."

... is what I would have said, had I been participating in the conversation.

Just to clarify, I don't think Hillary Clinton is a bitch. That's just what some people I work with think.

I've never understood why so many people hate Hillary Clinton so much. To many, she represents cold, conniving liberalism at its worst. She is seen as a shrill, calculating, and ruthlessly ambitious liar.

Of course, many of these adjectives wouldn't be nearly so uncomplimentary if they were describing a man. Men who are ruthless and ambitious are actually admired. And they are never described as shrill.

I have always really liked Hillary. Ever since her controversial 1992 comments that she wasn't just some cookie baking housewife standing by her man, I've admired her intelligence and chutzpah.

She has always come across to me as warm and hard working, deliberate and thoughtful. So sometimes she's a little awkward when she tries to tell a joke, but hey, do we need a comedian in the White House or a President? Hillary is an effective behind the scenes leader who works well with others to get things done, as demonstrated by her performance in the U.S. Senate. Sure she's outspoken, and her views have evolved. She is tough but has a human side as well, though she is criticized for showing the slightest emotion - the woman can't win, really. She's either too tough or too vulnerable.

For the "family values crowd," she takes marriage more seriously than many Republican counterparts, having never been divorced though it would have been totally justified had she chosen to do so. I love that she's a committed member of the United Methodist Church. Let's see, has Donald Trump been divorced? Is he a church member?

As for her alleged "crimes" - Benghazi, the email scandal, Vince Foster's suicide ... One by one, Clinton has been repeatedly cleared of wrongdoing, or doing nothing outside of what was normally also done by Republican peers. The fact is, Republicans can't find that she's done anything really wrong, so they make stuff up or exaggerate because they can't stand the thought of her coming into power.

And while I'm at it:

I really don't understand why so many people are supporting a Trump presidency. He has consistently and blatantly lied. He has demonstrated tremendous lack of knowledge about general civics (such as how government and elections work). He has openly declared and bragged about his own racism and ignorance regarding the world outside of the U.S. He has brazenly offended entire populations of the world with Mexicans and Muslims leading the way. It totally defies logic that he could be elected - and yet he is going to be the Republican nominee.

Donald would make a terrible President. If he even listened to advisers, they'd have to spend their time teaching him the basics of how law is made and why he can't just do whatever he wants because Congress figures in there somewhere. All constitutional checks and balances would be sent into overdrive just to make sure his whimsical power trips don't upset the fragile nature of our form of government.

At least we are presented with a choice this election season. I remember elections past when people complained that there was really no difference between the candidates.

I'm getting married this summer. To a man. For the first time in my life, this is legal in every U.S. state. It isn't too much of a stretch of the imagination to comprehend that if Donald Trump is elected, he could appoint someone to the Supreme Court who could reverse the decisions that made my legal marriage possible. That would only be the beginning.

The person who ends up being President matters to me, to a lot of people, personally.