Tag Archives: france

Watching Todays Students Reminds Me

It was January of 2000, and as I looked out the window of the plane, I could no longer see the Alps. For the past few hours I had been staring at them, occasionally looking away to say something to my new friend B. He was also from New Jersey, Fair Lawn to be exact, and we somehow we figured out back in Zurich that we were both heading to the same university for the semester. And so I looked out the window towards the city lights and the sea and I pictured myself walking amongst the Marseillaise, it was finally happenning, my study abroad in France had begun.

My host lady was coming to pick me up, while B’s was not so kind, so when he found the general direction towards the trains, I wished him luck on his first night and said – “see ya at school.” As I glanced left and right from the entrance of the little airport, i noticed everyone had melted away and it became oddly quiet. The silence gave me a moment to picture how I’d handle the introduction; I had taken a few years of French in high school and done fairly well, Dad was also quite good with the language, though he rarely practiced with me, and I had committed myself to reading LeMonde online every morning from 1997 to 2000, it was my training for this moment. And as Florence and her boyfriend Michel got out of their tiny car to greet me, I realized that while I could tell them how I think the Jospin government will fare or what I think of the rise of the far right party in southern France, I couldn’t do much with casual chats. But it didn’t matter. It is in this moments of panic that things just work for me… and that was no exception.

At some point during this first night in Aix-en-Provence, I blacked out. I mean my memory blacks out, I don’t think I did. I’m known to have a very bad long term memory, but I do remember being squeezed against my French Horn case in the back of the little Peugeot… and Michel would ask lots of questions. My responses were slow and usually in the affirmative. “Oui. C’etait bien. Je suis fatigue.” Most of the responses came back to this central theme. When I wasn’t sure of a sentence I would take it from Portuguese and magically transform it into French. Not sure how great it sounded, but it worked very well. Later I’d properly learn to speak the language and that strategy would still save me sometimes. We arrived at the block of flats that seemed indistinguishable from one another, home sweet home. I was shown to my room, and as I walked in I wondered how many other international students, be they American or Canadian or Italian, how many had come before me, and repeated this same proccess with these similar thoughts. It was my first night of an experience that would change the course of my young life forever.

Or maybe not. But I like to say it that way cause it sounds inspiring. I’ve been spending lots of time with new arrivals from the US here in Amsterdam. Young, inexperienced, inquizitive, ignorant, motivated, open-minded, ready to take on the world… they arrive. Sometimes it seems like torture to have to see it keep happenning over and over, like Groundhog’s Day. But mostly it unlocks memories that I thought I had lost, and takes me back to the night that started it all.

Movie Going Recovery

Happy 2006 dear readers! While I shold be recovering tonight from last night’s partying, the truth is, I’m recovering from seeing one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen. It was so terrible I won’t use its title and I’ll stop talking about it after this next sentence. My only wish is that I could one day meet Peter Jackson and skowl at him for making this piece of shit Ape movie, when he could have taken all those millions and built a hospital – ANYWHERE – its not like the world doesn’t need a new one.

Speaking of world health crises, though I’m sure it’s a downer to start off the year this way, there are to many downers to ignore on this here blog; so to kick off the year, note that the French government is surprised to discover that 30 years of nuclear testing in French polynesia, the area is contaminated to the teeth. 600 new cancer cases per year, 250 deaths, and all this after the gov. did a whole compaign way back when insisting nuclear testing is fun for the whole polynesian family.

Time for some charges of crimes against humanity against some old rich white guys rotting away in the French parliament. Lets go… drag their old bones up here and let’s have the truth about this cover up.

bicyclemark80: Beneath the Surface of Riots in France

Join me and my guest Sophie as she shares how things look within France while the uprising continues across the country. Also BREAKING NEWS about chemical weapons used in Fallujah.

AudioCommunique #80(mp3)
29min+, 80kbps, 16Mb+

Discussion Includes (for those too lazy to listen!):

Amy Goodman speech on media
Podjournalism revolution
Story breaks about US use of white phospherous – more potent than napalm
Call the media networks and demand its reported!
Americunt.com
Briefly on the West Wing
BBC series on Discrimination in France
A communique correspondant in France: Sophie of sophie-g.net
My listener map – its growing!

Flames Fanned By Idiots in French Cabinet

Though they might not be reporting on it in your neck of the woods, over here in old Europe, things are happenning. More specifically, in poor communities outside of Paris, people are revolting. And I’m not talking about body oder. – I’m sure lots of comfy living Europeans gasp at the news and remark — theyre going crazy, it’s terrible! But as you know, I often see things upside down, and in a very dark way – I think this is a necessary and well – justified- revolt.

Generally speaking I’ve long been waiting for a return of the revolutionary spirit of France. The outpouring of capitalism and “stuff” has certainly helped to muffle what was once a wonderfully unpredictable social and political tradition. Throw up the barracades, maybe don’t break out the guillotines, but some pitchforks and torches could certainly be in order. And the only thing they should be doing, which they haven’t done as of yet, is head directly to Matignot or Eylsee and demand some resignations, justice, and maybe some real representation.

Amongst the long list of complex and hard-for-a-guy-like-me to truely understand, problems, I look to the government first-and-foremost. French policy makers at the highest level as completely out of touch with the reality of the working (or unemployed) class. You get guys like Chirac who is senile, Vellipin who’s a classic elitist, and my least-favorite: Sarkozy who is basically Vichy junior, passionately working on bringing facism back to the country. These guys have encouraged an atmosphere where revolt is inevatable and perhaps the only way to get noticed, it would seem. Either that or they’re completely asleep at the wheel of government.

My Ho Chi Min Trail

There was one specific New Jersey summer, when I was 16, that I picked up a copy of “On Revolution” – selected writings of Ho Chi Min. The book was 25 cents, and I recognized the name as one of those personalities from history that public school education teaches you was basically evil. Of course I was a skeptical kid, -still am-, so I knew I had to read the words of this alleged tyrant.

Though many of my memories from that year may have faded a bit, I still remember that book and how it captured my mind and my heart. Nevermind if you like him or don’t like him. Nevermind the good or bad he may have done in his life, I’m speaking about the person that came through in that book. To me, those words were filled with passion and dedication to basic principles, about the right of people not to be colonized or enslaved, and also to determine their own collective future. A bigger point that stood out for me, was how he spoke about patriotism. I can’t remember the exact quote, but I think it was that the greatest crimes in the history of the world have been committed in the name of patriotism.

That statement has always stuck with me throughout my life. I had always found all the flag waving and patriotism in the US unsettling. I actually felt a similar odd feeling when I lived in France and observed the patriotism that sometimes shows its face there. And when I look at this so called “WAr on Terrorism” and all the propoganda that comes with it, I can’t help but think of Ho Chi Min’s simple but often ignored conclusion.- The greatest crimes in the history of the world, continue to be commited in the name of patriotism.

By the way I’ve finally gotten back into reading Back To Iraq which is one of the best and first sources of blog journalism in Iraq.

Grey Memorial

On this Sept. 11th I dawned the traditional I heart NY shirt, moped around the house, and spoke to a dear friend about how I remember events unfolding from across the river that day. And instead of trying to write profound thoughts to go with the sad memories, I give you last year’s post:

Overdramatic

To some extent, it is great not to be in the US on Sept. 11th. I say this because sometimes the desire to remember and reflect is completely overdone and beaten to death via a tacky Newspaper Editorial or political speech. Here in the NL people seem to just go about their business. I suggested to a lovely Turkish student that today is a good day to be a little quieter and pensive, she gave me the interesting response “If we were going to be reflective and depressed on every day that corresponds with a past tragedy, we would have no normals days left.” Of course, for me this one is special due to its proximity to me, like so many people out there. So today I offer some memories of my Sept. 11, 2001. In doing so, I mean to organize my thoughts, get them out on paper, and remember the bad as well as some good moments on that day.

That Morning:

It was one month since getting my bachelors, things in my life were foggy, as happens to most recent grads. I had just returned from Portugal and was working in NYC for Glorious Foods, one of the hippest catering gigs in town. On Sept. 10th I had been working in Manhattan… a posh dinner in a bubble-tent at the Morgan Library. I remember great conversations with my co-workers from Germany and Russia about travel plans and live questions. I worked til late, and commuted via 33rd St. PATH train and then car back to my residence in my home town, Union, NJ. I was working that next night at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or something like that, so I had big plans for sleeping in on that morning.

As I was trying to sleep in.. at around nine o’clock I remember my clock radio switched on, I had left it set accidentally. It was a traffic report:

“All bridges are closed. Tunnels are closed as well. The City is effectively closed, no one should try to get in and getting out is also not possible at this moment.”

Tired Reflex I hit the snooze. In my half-awake mind I thought “Must be some anti-terrorism exercise.”

Then I remember the phone ringing. Sometimes I don’t even pick up when I want to sleep, but on this day I did. The voice on the other side was loud, blunt, and hurried: (this is as best I can remember)

DROCK: “DUDE, What are you doing?”

BM: “Sleeping man… still sleeping why?”

DROCK (working in DC): “TURN ON THE TV… You haven’t heard?”

BM: “I heard they’re doing something in the city, but no.. I worked late and..”

DROCK: “Just turn on the Fuckin TV… the Towers have been hit… and something happened here too. I probably have to evacuate this place soon. SHIT. OK.. I gotta go.. call you when I can.”

BM: “What? Oh.. OK..”

I switched on the TV and watched. The second tower had just been hit. At that point I didn’t want to get all crazy and rush to judgement, I thought “maybe it’s just a fire… they’ll put it out.” Then I heard about the DC news… the Pentagon (a building I hate normally) and they reported that the “Mall is on fire”.. whatever that means. It all sounded like chaos and hysteria. I was stunned. I looked out my New Jersey window and could see the darkness in the sky… it was still recent.. hadn’t smothered the entire island yet, as it later would for days. Phone rings again:

Mom at work: “Mark… have you seen?”

BM: “Hi mom.. yes. DRock just called.. he says theres things happening in DC… he was in a hurry… I’m not sure…”

Mom: “OK. The kids are going crazy. You can see Manhattan from the Gym windows, and some are crying, others are just confused. Lots of parents work in that area. I can’t believe this.”

BM: “Yes.. wasn’t ____ on a plane to San Fran today?”

Mom: “I don’t know… I think it was much earlier. What else have they said about this, because we’re not getting much information here?”

I summarized what I had learned and seen in my half-hour of awakenness.

As a reflex.. despite a bad break..I called ex-girlfriend. She was there. We shared our shock.. comforted a bit.. and proceeded to start calling more loved ones.

I remembered A-L. A-L… my fussball partner…the gal that made my time at the Village Voice so fun and exciting. She lived uptown. I wanted to speak with her. When I finally did get her she was fairly paniced. I won’t replay that conversation. But I just remember her need to walk around talking to people.. and inability to stay indoors.

Then the phonecalls started coming in:

Dad calls from work: Just checking in. I can’t remember much from that call.

Portugal – Grandma: Av? and Av? were worried that I was in Manhattan looking for work. They were terrified.

Boston – HJM calls: She wanted to make sure I wasn’t there. I hadn’t spoke to her in quite some time. Besides the horror of the day, I was so happy to speak with her.

At some point I spoke to BigDaddyJ, this part of my memory is fuzzy. I think I was becoming numb to these calls. Still I remember we spoke that morning.

I know at some point I spoke to IK… I had been thinking about him alot. Worried, because he is Turkish and his father owned a gas station. I had this huge fear for the safety of him and his family. I worried about the backlash. I knew there would be ignorant people with weapons running around. In fact later there were plenty of cases of hate-crimes, but IK and his family were ok.. and we spoke a couple of times that day.

The rest is more of the same. Phonecalls from people I hadn’t spoken with in years as well as people I see everyday. Everyone sort of checking in.. some fearing that I might have been there, others just wanting to talk. Later that night I remember “the boys” asking me, as the resident international affairs buff, questions about terrorism, Aghanistan, and as I recall “What is going on.. what has the US been doing that someone would do something like this to us?” I remember being impressed.. my non-political friends wanted information. They were hungry for facts. Many were, and perhaps unfortunately, they turned to television to get their soundbite information.

When the day finally came to an end, I did lots of writing. Looking at it now.. I was worried. Worried about those who had died and the families. Worried about the backlash against immigrants. And the one theme I kept fearing, was the irrational response. I worried about all the people on the earth who would die from bombs dropped in response to this terrible crime. Of course we’ve now seen how that came true.

And of course as I was sleeping… 4am.. a phonecall comes in – from France. It was the French family I had lived with and become so close with, they were worried about me, they wanted to ask about what I thought would happen next. They forgot there was a time difference.

So despite my distaste for lame Sept. 11th tributes, there it is. Most of my memories from that one day. Working the phones at the bicyclemark family farm just across the river from this massive cloud of despair.

My one wish from all this is that the war on terrorism, would stop going the way its going. Instead of attempting to hunt down and destroy terrorism, which is of course impossible, I wish humans would use their power to investigate WHY terrorism is happening. Who is being wronged… miseducated.. oppressed.. abused. Like addressing crime, you cannot simply try to catch every criminal, you must find out WHY crimes are being committed and address that problem.