En famille

A beautiful gate and doorway in Aix's Villeneuve quarter

Weekends are family time in France.  People tend to spend their time en famille (together with family at home), or at a second family home or with relatives.  Some go into town together like in Aix, where we see many families in town on Saturdays; the grocery stores and marchés fill up with them, and once the holiday season starts, parking is very, very difficult on Saturdays.  (This year, the season may be starting sooner than later as the city workers were stringing the holiday lights on the plane trees along cours Mirabeau already this week.)  Sundays are another story.  Then, most towns and villages are quiet and almost lifeless, with shop windows shuttered and restaurants open sporadically.  For those of us without family here, or for tourists, there is not much to do on a Sunday.  Our family frequently has a championnat football game to attend on Sunday morning (this is what the French football federation seasonal games are called), and we appreciate the chance to have a slow morning, but Sunday afternoons are really empty, except for the cinemas which are open.  I take a lot of walks and pictures on Sundays, but not of people because the streets are so quiet.  The photos here were taken on recent Sundays.  My guys watch a lot of tv or spend time on the Internet.

Sundays are protected by French law, for le repos dominical (Sunday rest).  In secular times, this day off work has been reinterpreted to mean a day to spend en famille, resting and relaxing.  So most shops are closed, by law.  Year-round, a few exceptions are made for special commercial or touristic zones: a large shopping area between Aix and Marseille is open during the day on Sundays, and in Aix, a number of grocers are open until midday while a shopping street has a few shops open for a few hours in the afternoon outside of the holiday season.  These openings are in part justified by the needs of tourists and visitors to have access to some commercial services on otherwise deserted Sundays.  (The rules during the holidays are a little looser.)  For now, other businesses are trying to get in on the Sunday opening hours, such as home improvement stores, the owners of which argue that even the ordinary French would like broader access to shops on Sundays, perhaps to bricoler (do repairs or household maintenance work) a little bit on a Sunday afternoon.  That is certainly how we often spend our Sundays in the U.S., running to the hardware store for supplies so we can putter around the house.  So far though, such stores in France have not been successful in getting the right to be open on Sundays. (see "No late-night shopping please, we're French," by Leela Jacinto, France 24, 3 Oct. 2013.)

Nevertheless, this is a perennial discussion in France, about which shops should be allowed to be open and for how long on the weekends, and it seems that eventually, one will see more stores open on Sundays, not just for the tourists and expatriates, but for ordinary French families too.  For those with dual working parents, having broader access to grocery stores and hardware stores would seem to be beneficial.  It took me nearly a half year in France before I was able to figure out how to replenish our larder sufficiently and efficiently on Saturday so that we would have enough food through Monday morning (and I still don't understand how French parents do it).  As I mentioned above, on Saturdays, the grocery stores and even my beloved marché down the street are crowded, so crowded that I often want to avoid them altogether. (Wednesdays are another bad day, particularly for grocery shopping, with grade school kids home from school).  The local shopping area that is open on Sundays, that I mention above, is an even greater nightmare on Sunday, with traffic jams, crowds at the restaurants, and long lines at check-out. Clearly, there is a demand for Sunday opening hours among the French, and with the current unemployment rates, there are surely workers and students eager to fill the ranks of weekend sales and grocery clerks.

A graffiti filled stairwell on the east side of Aix

Blocs de construction

Building with blocks is one game or fundamental skill we learn as children.  We learn about physics, we exercise reason, and we have fun building up houses or towers and knocking down the blocs de construction (building blocks) to start over all over again.  Building is a fundamental element of adult society too.  After all, it ensures that we have shelter, a place to live.  It's not enough to have lots of old shelters that we recycle though, such as the one in which my family currently lives (dating from the first half of the 18oo's), or the knoll in an old plane tree in the middle of town now housing this particular pigeon family.  New construction is important too, to accommodate growing populations,  young families, and changing lifestyles.  It is so important actually that 'construction starts' are seen as a major indicator of an economy's health or at the very least, its ability to recover in the event of an economic recession.  Building and construction starts tell us how many constructions projects are started, and hopefully eventually completed, which affects multiple other economic sectors.  Buildings after all need people to offer multiple services and products in order for these buildings, residential or non-residential, to be completed, used, and maintained.  Construction is related to real estate which is then related to sectors that supply, distribute and sell consumer products, office products, building personnel.  Construction also requires capital or lending, it may influence interest rates, and it certainly affect the level of tax revenues earned by our governments.  So, economists pay attention to building and construction activity, to how many new homes are being built, and to the employment figures associated with that kind of activity.

In France, construction is one of the sectors that remains weak, contributing to troublesome nationwide unemployment.  (I wrote about this in Une porte fermée March 2013. )  Here in the south, building cranes are especially prominent over public works projects, as in Marseille where the city is still in the process of completing its Year of Culture preparations, but it is unclear how much the new construction is actually affecting the high unemployment rate in the city (some indicators suggest 16%, compared to 10-11% nationwide,  Renier, Romain 7/0/2012 "Marseille: entre precarité..." La Tribune ).  Meanwhile in Aix, other public works projects are beautifying the city, adding more pedestrian-friendly elements, and bringing in some housing.  At least one major private sector non-residential project is underway, at the former site of the Aix tourist office which will be transformed into a new Apple retail store (see the initial demolition below, this past winter).  Yet, even the slight improvement in the past months that Moody's credits to construction is still too light to improve the employment prospects here (Moody's Analytics 2013. ", Dismal Scientist: France ).  

Construction starts are important for the coastal town in which I was raised too, which has long been dependent on the logging and sale of lumber.  Today's New York Times features an article about that town (with a nearly 14% unemployment rate), which is hoping that the slight improvements in construction starts nationwide will spur enough demand to allow a paper mill to reopen.  (Click here Thompson, Kirk. 2013, April 15. A Mill's Fate Weighs Heavily on a Washington Timber Town, The New York Times.)  As in France, since the mid-2000's , the U.S. has seen a significant decline in housing and non-residential construction ( Hadi, Adam. 2011, April. "Construction employment peaks..." Monthly Labor Review. Bureau of Labor Statistics), and this affects all kinds of communities, and not just the folks who are unemployed, but those who provide support services or even run or work at the local grocery stores and restaurants.  The biggest difference though is that in France, some of the construction starts that are taking place are public ones.  We don't see the state as active in our construction sector in the U.S.  Unemployment benefits are higher in France (the minimum weekly benefits for 2013 in Washington state is $143 which is about 109 euros, while the minimum benefit is 193 euros in France, about $252), and they seem to last longer.  So, creating jobs through public works is at least one way to get les sans-emplois (unemployed) off the dole in France, and perhaps spur some private housing investment.  We'll see what kinds of building blocks the private sector is able to come up with in my little hometown.

Une porte fermée

This week we had the frustrating experience of losing access to our rental parking spot due to a poorly-publicized changing of the garage door sensors.  The first evening my spouse was caught between two closed garage doors, unable to go forward towards our section of the garage nor to exit (or even to call for help due to weak phone reception).  The next day I watched helplessly through the grating on one side of the center garage door as the new transmitter I had been given failed to open the door immediately in front of me yet worked nicely for the one beyond that leads to the street.  On both occasions, we could see where we wanted to go, the rewards were tantalizingly close, but because of une porte fermée (a closed door), we couldn't quite get there. 

That's not so different from the experiences of women that I wrote about last time in regards to salaries (La Politesse, March 2013).  In addition, women can often see the occupational and promotional opportunities above them, through the plafond de verre (the glass ceiling) but they can't quite reach them, at least not in the numbers that we should expect, not in France and not in the U.S.  A similar situation faces immigrants, particularly those from poorer countries-of-origin, for whom the rewards of a better or at least hopefully more comfortable life may be all too visible but not so easily reachable.  This is the theme in the témoignage I am currently reading (which is a kind of memoir, or personal testimony) by an Algerian Muslim immigrant who grew up in the Paris suburb of Val Fourré.  (About 13% of French immigrants come from Algeria.)  In Du côté de chez moi, Salima Senini* (2013) tells of life in the isolated city housing project, and the thrilling glimpses of French mainstream culture she gets, through television, school, and eventually, through her reading of French literature.  For her family and most of her immigrant neighbors, living the comfortable French lifestyle though is beyond their grasp.  Her father works several jobs to pay the rent and feed his large family and to get them to Algeria for summer visits, so for Senini, the desire to celebrate Christmas and receive gifts, to spend holidays skiing or frankly, anywhere outside of the immigrant ghetto, to wear more fashionable clothing, all these have to be satisfied with infrequent discount shopping trips to the city and or through dreams depicted in her made-up answers to school assignments about what gifts she received or to questions about where she spent her holidays.  (The teachers didn't realize that not all of their students celebrate Christmas?!  These same teachers also suggested that the  immigrant kids who spoke French and a tribal language at home were not 'really' bilingual because the other non-world language didn't count as a real language.)

Most of Senini's seven siblings don't complete school, ending up in strictly manual or blue collar jobs, just like all of the other neighbors' kids.  Unfortunately, they and others like them are often among those that suffer disproportionately in times of economic downturns such as we are experiencing in France right now.   This can put to a halt any progress made towards those elusive immigrant dreams.  (We have a family friend in Washington state who no doubt sees this same thing over and over again in her work helping immigrants and refugees learn English and find gainful employment in their new homes.)  Here in France, unemployment is the highest since 1999, at 10%. (See France24, French joblessness climbs to highest rate, March 7, 2013.)  It's over 25% for those under age 25, and some of whom are indeed immigrant youth or youth of immigrant parents, especially here in the south of France.  And, the sectors that continue to see declines in the past few economic quarters are precisely those in heavy blue collar (and immigrant) sectors, such as construction, mechanical work (vehicle repair for example), transportation, manufacturing (see INSEE report, in English, Ongoing decrease in payroll employment March 13, 2013).   Thus, glass ceilings, and open and then suddenly locked doors remain a fact of life for many immigrants, here and elsewhere.

*(Click here for a French language radio interview with Senini on the release of her book.  The English edition of her book from the Arenes publishing house seems to be forthcoming, and is entitled In search of myself.)

Here's another door that is hard to penetrate.  It leads to Le Panthéon national in Paris, that final resting place for illustrious contributors to the glorious French Republic (as decided by the current president of the Republic).  Among the many men's remains, there are remains of two women (next to their spouses) and one person of color.
 

La politesse

Sitting Woman, by Thomas Houseago, Parcours l'art a l'endroite à Aix en Provence Jan-Feb. 2013 Place l'universite

On this International Women's Day, I am reminded of Caitlin Moran's suggestion in her book How to be a woman (2012) that the basic goal of feminism can really be broken down to the pursuit of basic politeness in society.  That we should treat each other with civility, regardless of our gender seems pretty reasonable, and it's even more appealing to me, if that call for politeness extends beyond gender, where we extend civil behavior to all, regardless of age, ethnoracial origin, or other social features.  Treating everyone politely would make it much harder for us to overlook or treat people poorly or less than equally.  After all, that is a basic lesson of humanism.

Regardless of whether we are pursuing politeness in the name of feminism or humanism, la politesse (politeness) does pose some challenges because many aspects of civil behavior are in fact cultural, even if the basic idea of civility is universal.  For example, here in France, politeness is tied up in the French language and discourse as it is in many other languages, which poses challenges for English-speakers.  There is the polite vous form that I have to remember to use when speaking to people that I do not know well or with whom some social distance is appropriate: school teachers, market vendors, shop clerks.  (Its equivalent in Finnish has slipped so much that I never properly learned to use it particularly since I had few opportunities to use it, and in English, well, you is you).  Then there are the polite French phrases that are still used quite regularly; the obligatory bonjours and au revoirs when entering a shop are easy enough, but it is the enchantées (nice to meet you) and the avec plaisirs (with pleasure) that trip me up because they seem so flowery.  On the other hand, I also find the 'you're welcome' confusing here.  Very formally one says je vous en prie, but most people say de rien which to my ear sounds dismissive and ungraceful because its direct translation implies 'it's nothing' even though it is a perfectly acceptable and very popular response to merci.   In American English we have slipped into the usage of  'no problem' as a response to thank you, which a friend and I agreed we didn't like for the same reasons de rien resonates poorly with me.  I want my thank you to be accepted firmly, perhaps even avec plaisir (with pleasure)!

Certainly, my understanding of Moran is that she is referring to much more than just how we greet people on the street (and we know that the actions accompanying the language we use also vary significantly, from the bisous that French give each other on their cheeks, to the handshakes or head nods or bows that others do).  Moran is advocating politeness in all aspects of our lives and in all societies.  For example, are we being polite in how we treat people at work or at home?  Are we being polite about how we hire people, pay them, evaluate them, promote or move them, and even let them go?  Are we being polite in our exchanges with people in our daily routines, at school, at home, in our shopping?  Are we sharing, are we taking turns, are we being mindful of each other?  Unfortunately, we still have much work to do in this regard.  My SOC 101 students got a look at some impolite wage gaps in the U.S. in class this week (click here and see if you feel as outraged as several of my SOC 101 students: Why is her paycheck smaller, May 18, 2010. The New York Times), and similar wage gaps exist in France too. (Le salaire des femmes dans le privé inférieur de 28% à celui des hommes, March 8, 2013, Le Monde)  Politeness is more than just saying the polite words; it is also in doing the polite, or by extension, the fair, or equal thing.

Mommy penalty indeed

As I ponder a fuller re-entry into the job market (after 10 years of part-time university lecturing), I 'm seeing more clearly the career risks I took in having children and curbing my employment during their early childhoods. In many ways, I feel surpassed by the economy and its labor requirements, and wonder how to match my skills with what is needed out there.

Coincidentally, just this morning on my way to a breakfast honoring the new Consul General of Finland, I read the headlines about President Obama's choice for the Supreme Court replacement to retiring Justice Souter. Judge Sonia Sotomayor has a compelling immigrant story and a brilliant legal career, and she is single (divorced), with no children. Likewise, the Finnish Consul who has just been assigned the plum consular post in Los Angeles seems to be a remarkably intelligent, personable, well-traveled woman with a long career in the Finnish Foreign Ministry, and she is married, but with no children (I asked). These are amazingly accomplished women, and their similar family statuses struck me.

Is there a mommy penalty? Have these women succeeded partly because they have not had children, left the job market, re-entered? Certainly these women are incredibly talented, well-educated and are successful on their own merits (and there many women who have succeeded as well, but with children). Still, one wonders, how does not having children help? If not having children makes it possible to stay engaged with the job market and ever-developing industries, then it does help. If it means sticking to a career path with a clear trajectory, then it helps. For women with children who've chosen to or been compelled to curtail their employment for multiple years, getting out of touch with the job market and its requirements is a real danger, and stepping of the career path means getting back on it is nearly impossible. In some countries in northern Europe, positions are protected during parental leaves, and returning to work is more seamless because of this protection, but such jobs and protections are rare in the United States. In the U.S. it may be that re-entering mommies will need to do some drastic re-inventing and re-training. That seems to be what I need to think about myself.