fashion victim

In case you haven’t been watching the news, Bolivia went and installed itself a new indigenous president package lately. This could signify big things (whether it signifies good things is not mine to speculate, I’ll leave it to the outstandingly boring tele intellectuos). But it might means decent representation of the predominantly amerindian people. It might mean better redistribution of wealth form the profits of natural resources.
And so how do the main French news channels reporting this blip on the political horizon?
‘And a visit today by the Bolivian president who met with our brandy marinated fruitcake president Chirac (oh, how I do wish they would say it) …without a tie’
‘The Bolivian president was sworn into parliament today... still without a tie’
Yes, bravo, 10 points for the astute fashion centric commentary. Possibly its concerning to see a head of state wandering about without the blood supply being cut off somewhere around the neck area. Possibly all this extra blood rushing about might trigger the thinking power required to, oh, say – run a country.
As an aside, the French word for tie is cravat. Which is what we call that impossibly complicated opportunity to strangle oneself with romantic flourish. So unless they’ve come up with another name for it, the French are missing a word here. Which seems impossible where clothing is concerned. Actually the truth is I can’t be bothered checking my facts. It’s a long couple of metres to the dictionary.

Anyway, still on the topic of trying to pass miscellaneous clothes drivel off as news (which hardly seems necessary considering the spring summer collection season – and oh, someones painted Giorgio Armani a startlingly vibrant orange. Who convinces these people that carrot orange passes for tan. Who?) they sent off the evidently underworked morning camera crew (probably the work experience mob) down to one of the Paris train stations sometime around 6 yesterday morning so that they could have some completely unimaginative images to flesh out a headline story that went something along the lines of ‘Bit chilly today eh?’ So granted, there is a big nasty cold snap whipping about Eastern Europe and generally causing mayhem and brass monkey freezing. This has translated to a winter nip about the heels here in France. Trains still work. Cars still manage to stop colliding into each other (as much as they can in this country) we pull out the extra woolly scarf from the cupboard and zip up the coat to the chin. However, its hardly enough of a reason to send off the AM camera detail to the train station so they can interview the guy who had his coat zip somewhere around mid chest (flouting cold fashion norms) level and film old dears in tragically boring beanies. I may be semi comatose in front of the morning telly, but I’m not that cerebrally disconnected yet…

spam zen

Sometimes spam is almost worth opening...
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A bit of grammatical tweaking and that could pass a Fine Arts exam

Welcome to Lille

Well, I’m slowly finding my feet. They’re slipping about all over the place in the ice and snow, but my feet are there, nevertheless. And I haven’t gone bottoms down onto the pavement yet either, so I’m pretty proud of myself all in all..
The new and improved daily grind isn’t so terribly grinding either (yet). The work varies between routine and mildly interesting, but the staff are friendly, the food is hearty and cheap and in such startling abundance that I'm hastily searching out fitness clubs. Also, 9.30 starts, free tea and coffee, could be worse.

Still, there's nothing worse than having to sit on your purse after a stint at unemployment until your first paycheque comes through...oh the anticipation, oh the delight and oh the bitter disappointment when you behold the rat-like tendencies of various administrations gnawing away at your salary via a bunch of Miscellaneous Unexplained Charges with codes like Intf5sec and ProSray2.5%. By the end of my last work contract, I was actually earning 4 euros less per month than at the start of it. And I had coffee to pay for people. Coffee!

Flanders

lille place rihour
Originally uploaded by Nyx.

The place, not the Simpsons character....
So here I am in the North, this means I'm going to have to possibly change my opening blog paragraphs and everything isn't it? Sigh, life is too difficult..
Everything has gone smoothly thus far and I only wish I has some time to whip of some well penned witty observations about how I'm finding things, but I'm lacking as much in time as I am in wit, so here be another drive by blog posting until such time as the guy in the office across from me finds me something to work on before I have to dash off and catch one of my very infrequent trains. Yes, the Flemish countryside, like the Parisien suburbs, can have a pretty haphazard transport link. But what I will say. About the trains. They have ticketmasters on them. With whistles. If you are running for your train, and you're really not even sure that it is your train anyway, but you'll give it a go and see where you end up just for the hell of it...the Trainmaster is there with his whistle. There to stop those train doors cruelly slamming in your face and leave you standing in the fog for the next century. They can also tell you if you've just made a dash for the right train or the mystery express. It's a pretty good metaphor for the rest of it really.
Anyway, must dash, the fog - well I'd say it was descending but it never really lifted - and I can hear a whistle in the distance....

Merry Christmas all.

whimsical jester bunny

whimsical jester bunny
Originally uploaded by Nyx.

so, it's decided.
I've been accepted for my first temping assignment up in Lille, starting Monday. Monsieur, for his part, has two job interviews lined up before christmas already, so if he manages to get himself something before my own placement is over (late Feb) then Lille is officially our new home. Well, more MY new home, for the other half it's more of a return journey.
I've got my Christmas shopping sorted, my mail sent, my tree decorated...
Now I just need to go pack. Sigh! Again. I move way too often.
Entries might become a little patchy (because they been, like, so consistent lately) for a while, though I imagine I'll be spending weekends in Paris often enough in the New Year.
Merry Christmas all. :)

Gahr!

Yes, I'm talking about the gas heater again. Deal with it. It is the only real drama and conflict in my life, this ongoing hate-hate relationship I have with the heater and the heater repairman.
So we decided to get a second opinion, I scouted around online til I found a society with a sufficient number of accolades (member of the consumer protection agency, approved by licensed tradesmen, free quote, back massage, false platitudes)
Anyway, so I gave the guy the lowdown.
And well, what a total surprise, the repair company have a shoddy work history and we've been ripped off blind. Gee, I couldn't have figured that out on my own.
Anyway, he said fixing it would be pointless and we should get a new heater. The fabulous irony of this is that I did have to pay him a callout fee, so I paid someone to be told I was being ripped off. I feel like suing someone.(or is it sueing? don't ask me, english is just my first language)
So sorry Pip, the apartment is going to be a mite nippy (lucky I bought that oil heater, it's the only thing between me and hypothermia). Ok, ok it's not that cold in the apartment - yet - but it is rather brisk)
The boyfriend also has an upcoming job interview up north, if we both suddenly land jobs like that (snap fingers), then I'm going to get a tad suspicious. Especially after all the crap I've been wading through here over the last 6 months. You could argue karmic equilibrium, but frankly me and karma??? Let's just say I'm fairly convinced I was a bit naughty in some former lives.

Happy/Not Happy

Ok, so first place temp I walk into in Lille and they get me an interview for a bilingual assistant job for 3 months (the company even looks reasonable - an energy group owned by Veolia environment)

Happy

Have avoided not having to live with the pseudo inlaws should I breeze through next weeks job interview (ok point of note here, lovely people, really. But on no account could I live with them for more than two days without going psycho-crackers) thanks to my pseudo sister inlaw offering me a room at her place (the teeth grinding tendencies seem to have skipped a generation)

Happy

Got lots of presents, bought decorations, beer, and it's not even Christams yet

Happy.

Heating has broken down again. I'd love to wash my hands of the whole affair, but a friend of mine is coming to visit next weekend. I'd really like to offer her a warm place to stay. This situation with the heater has just got way out of control. How can a thing break down so systematically without deliberate intent?

Not Happy Jan.

Mostly I'm watching the telly...

Just quickly then...
1. New series of Doctor Who, well done beebs! (the intro music still gives me that tingle down the spine that I had back when I was 12 years old, the props are still suitably second rate, and the new doctor is charming)

2. Joss Whedons next experiment after Buffy 'Firefly' - a sort of frontier country and western sci-fi set 500 years in the future. Damn you Wheedon and your zippy script quips.

3. Finally got my ID card paperwork in the processing mill. Except the photos were wrong. I went to a frigging id photo place 4 months ago SPECIALLY for ID and passport photos, and they stuffed the format up (I discover the correct format, well, 4 months later). I have now condemned myself to a crappy bad hair no make up sallow washed out hair pulled back too severely type monstrosities that proclaim me to be me. Damnit.

4. Going pavement pounding round Lille tomorrow to see if I can't score myself something. I'm taking the obscenely early train, horrors.

snow

snow
Originally uploaded by Nyx.

We got an early taste of winter this weekend, so it was something of a relief that in his last money-sniffing visit, the heater repair guy was able to pull his thumb out of whatever plum tart he'd stuck it into long enough to actually do something vaguely resembling fixing it. The overflow spout now leaks instead (every time he "fixes" it there's a leak that moves location, it's quite a thing).

Also we have severe interior condensation problems, especially in the bedroom that has two walls that connect with the outside world. This reminds me too much of the beginnings of what I was lucky enough to send the end consequences of back in the LAST apartment.

I've managed to control the interior window condensation but the entire wall is just one big wet spot, including the inside of some cupboards, which I luckily rummaged around in this weekend or there'd have been a big tearing out of hair a couple of months down the line when I found a stash of mouldy wet blankets, books, documents and suitcases.
Ok, I've lived in the tropics, I can deal with mouldy damp walls and such, but this is rivulet territory. And its like minus 58 outside or something, so I can't really open the windows. Well, I could. But as soon as I close them again, it just comes back in a few hours. I guess I could crank the heating up AND leave the windows open. That'd work, right?

So how bored are you reading a posting about interior damp then? Given up yet?

This is another reason I need to leave town. I want a different apartment. Again.

I got proactive and went to the unemployment office last week(the half that deals with the unemploymentness and not the money). They basically said they couldn't help me. Thats it, I've been categorically advised by employment services that I am beyond help. They even gave me a bit of paper to prove it. All my other jobsearch news is boring or depressing, or both. But I might punch the next person who tuts sympathetically and exclaims how absolutely inconceivable it is that I'm having such difficulty finding work. Especially if they're a person who has my cv in front of them at the time.

Fashion fallout zone

Fashion tip for the day: Sometimes, just sometimes, naked would've been a better choice.

And some good news for a change...

teddy bear tea party
Originally uploaded by Nyx.

Branson looks to plant waste for jet fuel

Tired of skyrocketing jet fuel prices, Virgin Atlantic Airways boss Richard Branson says he plans to turn his back on hydrocarbons and use plant waste to power his fleet.

"We are looking for alternative fuel sources. We are going to start building cellulosic ethanol plants (to make) fuel that is derived from the waste product of the plant," he said.

"It is 100 per cent environmentally friendly and I believe it's the future of fuel, and over the next 20 or 30 years I think it actually will replace the conventional fuel that you get out of the ground."

Mr Branson did not say where Virgin would build its factories or how economically viable cellulosic ethanol would prove.

"We are in the early days," he admitted.

He says cellulosic ethanol "is the by-product you get from the waste product (of plants), the bits in the field that get burned up" as opposed to ethanol, which is produced from fruit or corn for example.

Mr Branson's Virgin Group has a 51 per cent stake in Virgin Atlantic as well as interests in Virgin Cargo, Virgin Nigeria and Australia's Virgin Blue.

He says the combined fleet is almost 100 aircraft.

"We use around 700 million gallons of fuel a year between the four airlines," he said.

"I hope that over the next five to six years we can replace some or all of that (with ethanol)."
(This is very similar to my own approach regarding my bloodstream - my edit, Branson didn't say that. Pity)
- Reuters
______________________________________

Some of the UK's most environmentally sensitive upland lakes and streams are recovering from the impact of acid rain, the government has said.

Acidic sulphur in Britain's water has generally halved in the last 15 years, the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs said research showed.

In around half of 22 sites monitored by scientists, invertebrates and native algae were showing signs of recovery.

It is thought that emissions controls and greater use of natural gas instead of coal is aiding the reduction and boosting fish, plants and insects.

Since 1970 there has been a 74% decline in sulphur dioxide emissions from 3.8 million tonnes to one million tonnes in 2002, and a 37% decline in emissions of nitrogen oxides.

The switch from coal to gas in both power generation and in the home, while being mainly for economic reasons, has also meant a lot less pollution

In some sites, acid-sensitive mosses and other aquatic plants were found for the first time in 15 years.

And at three of the most acidic sites identified, juvenile brown trout have recently been found for the first time since 1988.

Other examples of improvements include the River Etherow in the Pennines which has experienced substantial reductions in biologically toxic aluminium.

Also, the Round Loch of Glenhead, in Galloway, and Llyn Llag in Snowdonia - both with a well documented history of acidification - have seen stands of aquatic plants return.

Ben Bradshaw said the research highlighted how measures brought in by government were starting to bear fruit.

"New strengthened measures such as the implementation of the Large Combustion Plant Directive will help ease the situation even further."
________________________________________

Hausseman at Christmas

fragments

Jacob put me on to this article. Long, but a very solid and complete background into the history of race relations in France today.

Puzzling fact for the day
Shorts and stockings seem to be the current autumn fashion thing. Last year it was pants tucked into tall boots. Next year I expect the latest accessory will be a frigging HORSE to go with all the country club fashions.

Latest goss.
I met her. Lucky me :)
(ok, that is NOT sarcasm in case anyone decides to artificially implant some sarcasm in there and ruin my feeble social life)

Literature:
Finished war of the Worlds. The Martians all get a cold and die.
I haven't watched this yet, but I found out that this was made at about the same time. And that it was totally faithful to the book. And that it was a complete and utter pile of crap,chock full of appalling acting and bad fake moustaches.

oh, the incompetency

Gaaaaaahr!
When will this reign of incompetency end? I should preface this with a disclaimer that this is not another Paris is worse than anywhere else on the face of the planet rant. Incompetents are everywhere. You name a place, and I'll pretend I'm worldly enough to know something they're spectacularly incompetent at.
Darwin, Australia: Processing construction permits
Adelaide, Australia: roadworks
Hanoi, Vietnam: Driving
America: Tact and diplomacy in world politics.

Paris, France: Read the blog.

I got a recorded message call today from the ANPE (employment agency). Telemarketing to the unemployed? Hello? We're looking for work. Just call us ok? We'd like the opportunity to chat with someone once in a while. So I got this message, recorded by someone who was clearly learning how to talk underwater and say complete phone numbers in under 0.5 of a second (seriously I had to listen to the message FIVE TIMES to get it). Anyway, I called the number, because they'd made it sound like I meant to, and the old dear on the other end didn't know very much of anything about it and was asking ME questions to specify (I'm sorry, the mermaid didn't elaborate, search me).
Earlier in the day, I connected to a public service website to try and find out about the precise conditions to be eligible for a particular type of work contract (there's about a zillion of them, contracts for one legged people with headlice, blind people with urinary tract infections, young people, old people...nothing for spectacularly pissed off 30 year olds with Masters degrees though, funnily enough). First number was wrong, second rang out and third was a paid service (I'll get onto that later), in which the lady on the other end, in a spectacular display of empty grammatical prose, managed to explain absolutely nothing. 'It means what it means' was the best I got out of her (and when it doesn't mean anything at all? What then huh?)
Yeah, so paid services. A lot of phone numbers to unemployment agencies, social security, dole offices have per minute rates. People, who by definition have no money, have to pay to try and do something about it. Explain that one if you will.

But despite being perpetually pissed off and such, I did a good deed today, I weighed an old ladys grapes for her because she couldn't see the buttons on the scales. She thanked me for not telling her to get lost (serious).

Dancing on Merlins Tomb

I lost about half my leisure time stuck in traffic jams over the long weekend. There should be some sort of law against other people wanting to go vaguely in the same direction as me during holiday periods. Spent a couple of days in Saint Brieuc, Brittany, much to the chagrin of the local crustacean population. In Brittany we beach-comb food, mussels, oysters and an assortment of hapless crabs to violently kill and consume in the form of a bisque which, much to my surprise, did not result in my untimely death by food poisoning. Other cultural pursuits involved potatoes, Merlins tomb, fest-noz, crepes and cider.

Riots

You've probably been hearing some news about riots going on in this part of the world. I've had a few 'hope you're ok!' messages from some dear friends who like to worry, so in case you're thinking along the same lines, I thought I'd post this up...


The Seine Saint-Denis and Seine et Marne areas of the north/north-east of Paris have long been problematic zones, with large numbers of poor immigrants, high density housing, few services, and an urban landscape to make you weep. The sort of activities of late - burning cars, destroying property - aren't new, it's simply the length of time (a week) they've been going on is unusual. Apparently the standard average is 5 or so days. There are incidents of this sort fairly frequently on the whole. They think there might be more problems tonight, I guess we'll see how it develops.

Fly agaric

Toadstools growing in a field. Brittany, France

It took how long??

Oh yeah, I saw this last week. Hi-freaking-larious. Seriously. It's crazy how much they make me laugh. Remember, during the giggles, that they shot an average of about 10 seconds a day in the making of this film.

It was a toss up between the Japanese and the Russian publicity poster. Russia won.

queue DNA

I'd love to know what's lacking in the DNA sequence of the average Parisien (yes, I'm complaining again, call it a hobby)that renders them totally incapable of possibly, just once, waiting for their turn. If one more person pushes in front of me in a line, especially when they get between a starving me and a tasty hot waffle (actually, it might've been bland and disgusting, in my experience they lose any capacity to make a good waffle otside of the country formerly known as Flanders)then my grinding teeth might finally crack, that throbbing vein in my temple might finally burst. And, dammit, I might just actually say something. Gosh darn it. I might just say 'excuse me, but I was next in line'. I'm warning you. Look out. Just, look out.

The heatings on the blink again, so thank god for global warming eh? And I think our hot water time has been shortened by another minute. Frankly I don't think they'll be satisfied until we've forked out at least 5 000 euros just so they can leave us with a gas heating system that no longer actually supplies hot water or heat.

I'll deal with it when I get back from Bretagne, I presently lack the mental strength to deal with it messieurs-dames.

All I want for Christmas

Is a cattleprod.
I know, I’m getting in early on my Christmas wishlist, but a cattleprod – used as it is currently and indiscriminately on zapping poor cows, instead of as it should be ; on zapping pesky humans – is just what I need.
I could go on at some length about the number of people that need a bit of zaaaap !ing at this moment in time. I expect I shall. First on today’s candidate list is my boyfriend – who I don’t grizzle about much (even though he deserves no less). But today he’s getting grizzled about. And my aren’t I happy that he’s not particularly capable of reading this blog. But frankly, unless he gets back to doing more productive things with his weekend (namely, entertaining ME), and stops whittling away the entire two days glued to whatever bloody goddamn computer game he absolutely must finish honest-I’ll-only-be-a-little-bit-longer before he can concentrate on the real world long enough to say, do the dishes or something, then he’s going to feel the zappy steel pretty soon. One thing I would like him to be honestly-finished-with-soon is the damn ferret cage he started on about 2 months ago. Yes you read me right, a ferret cage. Because one day he decided that he absolutely must get a pet ferret. Which would have been fine as far as half-arsed ideas go if he hadn’t got around to building a cage shell before he got distracted by another half arsed idea. Consequently, we have sacrificed a half metre square out of our not so very grand total of 44m2 for an imaginary pet. That’s a little more than I’m willing to share.

Second on the list of he-who-should-be-prodded is the gas heater repair guy (who, during the process of robbing us blind decided to have a dig at those sneaky embezzling Jews, but managed to annoyingly stay just within the borders of actual racist slur, so the best one could do was to sit and wait to pounce saying ‘hmmm, really ?...riiiight’ until that very moment – which he craftily avoided – that one toe goes over the racist slur line). Anyway, if you haven’t been reading this blog like, since, forever (and why haven’t you ?) you’d know we have an on-again, off-again love affair with a lousy gas heater and a lousy gas heater repair guy. Well, we had a quote to get mud shifted out of the pipes, and an appointment was made. Within about 3 minutes he was trying, once again, to get us to buy a new radiator rather than repair this one. The main problem here is that a) new radiators cost about 2,000 euros, b) the landlord is in South Africa. And c) I’m not willing to make that kind of decision for anybody. What ensued was a totally unnecessary telephone triangle while we sorted this out. Eventually the repairman’s boss yelled at him over the phone to just do the bloody work he’d quoted for and stop pissing about. Which was better than paying 2,000 euros, not to mention much more fun to listen to. Because my stupid boyfriend decided to take the quote WITH him to work, and accidentally on purpose delayed coming home so he wouldn’t have to speak to the repair guy, we got overcharged. The heating is sort of working now, but it’s still being quite temperamental. Much like me.

Third on my list is everyone who frequents my local post office. Without actual lane markings the French, it seems, are totally incapable of forming an orderly queue to save themselves. This, coupled with the fact that our local post office is only ever staffed by a maximum of one an a half people at any one time, means I have already managed to lose 3 years of my life waiting in a post office melee - especially interesting when I've only lived in the area for 7 months. The whole crowd dynamic in our post office seems to go like this;

*Only two out of the maximum 3 booths are ever open. No matter how large the customer crowd is

*Both booths are filled, one seems to move along relatively quickly, the other seems to always have a person with some unimaginably long problem to sort out. The staff member doing the sorting is generally on the point of having a nervous breakdown


* The rapidly moving booth closes temporarily for no apparent reason. The sign thanks us for our understanding. (This is a fundamental difference between English and French cultures. English culture apologises for the inconvenience - French culture thanks you for your understanding. Which assumes a lot.)

*The "queue" starts well back from the booths, and works for about 4 or 5 people before degenerating into a rugby scrum that looks something like a herd of sheep bunched up at the back of a paddock (I think my Kiwi genes just showed through there).

*As slices of my existence are consumed whole, individuals advance to be served, but the queue doesn't. You see, the new front of the line person never seems to think that MOVING FORWARD might be a good idea. This continues until you have a vast empty expanse of floor space in front of the booths, the herd of sheep are still bleating at the back, and the crowd extends out onto the footpath.

In case you were ever thinking that I don't write to you often enough...

The final prodding candidates are, of course, everybody else (except for you, I probably like you a lot) - the pushy public transport users, maniac drivers, diagonal pavement walkers (you know the ones, walking slightly slower than you, so you're gearing up to do a pavement overtake but during the time you've been catching up to pass them on the empty side of the pavement, they've managed to sneakily veer across to your side just in time to totally block your path as you're about to pass, old people are spectaclarly good at it), people who rant incessantly on their blogs, administration etc etc etc....