AFTER YOU...

Today I finally realised something that has been happening to me multiple times every day in France. Each time I go to pass through a doorway with one or more French men, they all automatically step back and wait for me to pass through.

Now in this world of equal opportunities, I feel embarrassed by what I consider to be all this fuss. Why don't they push past me and through the door like Aussie guys? According to Valentin, a PhD student in my lab, they don't even notice it as it's such a habit. While walking down the street one day with my supervisor, he told me that he had to walk on my right hand side, and that not to argue as he was programmed to do this and I couldn't make him change. Why? My only guess is it stems from the days of coaches pulled by horses when men would walk on the road side of of ladies so they didn't get splashed by water from passing carriages!

Maybe you Aussie guys should take note..... in France gallantry lives!

A JOB FOR LIFE

In France, everybody talks about how people have life-long positions. For example, many of the researchers at the Institut Pasteur have been there for many years and and don't look like they are going anywhere. The reason is this: in France, if you hold a job for 5 years your employer MUST offer you a LIFELONG POSITION. Yes, unbelievable I know. Another example of how socialist France is. This is why at the Institut Pasteur you can only be a post-doc for a maximum of 4.5 years.

Another thing is the unemployment benefits. It is proportional to the salary of your previous job. Crazy huh? You will receive an unemployment allowance based on the following conditions:

• you have not become unemployed through your own decision
• you have made at least 6 months of social security contributions in France during the previous 22 months
• you are less than 60 years old
• you are physically capable of working

The allowance is paid for 7 months (if you worked at least 6 months over last 22 months) or for 22 months (if you have worked at least 14 months over last 2 years). The monthly allowance usually starts at 50% of previous salary and decreases over time. To receive it, you need to be actively looking for work and may be asked to provide proof of this.

And, to top it all off, France has a 35 hour working week (effective since 2000), with 5 weeks of annual holidays! And the hours you work are accumulative, so if you work 40 hour weeks, each week you rack up an additional 5 hours of holidays to add to your 5 weeks. In addition:

- there is a statutory requirement for an interrupted period of one day's rest per week, which in principle should be on a Sunday; - an employee must have, in principle, a minimum of 11 hours' consecutive rest per day; - there is in principle a limit of 48 hours per week, and even in exceptional circumstances, working time may not exceed 60 hours per week. Working time may not exceed an average of 44 hours per week for a period of 12 consecutive weeks. Anyway, so today it's Sunday, my (legally obliged) day of rest, so I think I will can the plan of going to the lab and go out for lunch instead!

HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY!

Currently I am listening to the JJJ Hottest 100 top 10 countdown (after finally getting my real player to work). Well done Aussies it was an Australian sweep in the top 3. It's amazing how patriotic you get when you don't live at home! After work tonight I am taking some Frenchies, a German and a Swede to Cafe Oz (the Australian Bar in Paris) for a night of celebrating. I will fill you in tomorrow......

IT'S SNOWING!!!!

PARIS BY PHOTOS

Check out this link
http://www.flickr.com/photos/telephone_fotoblog/, its to a photo blog of one of Guillaume's friends, Emmanuel. He takes all his photos with his cameraphone. I think his photos are seriously good - really striking and quirky. The two most recent photos are from Saturday night - one is from inside Le Showcase, the other is down by the Pont Neuf.

UNDER THE BRIDGE

On Saturday night, after going to Daniel's birthday party, Guillaume, Emmanuel (one of Guillaume's friends, he's a cool dude) and I headed off to a party at a club called Le Showcase. After Emmanuel scammed our way in (which I thought was no mean feat considering we were the scruffiest looking people there) I realised that the club's name was perfect. Finally I knew where all the beautiful people of Paris were hiding. Under the Pont Alexandre III.

This was one super cool venue. There were chicks singing some French rock / pop in not too many clothes, another chick doing fire twirling (in not too many clothes), and a DJ. There were also a whole lot of couches, although these appeared to be reserved for those who bought entire bottles of spirits (we got kicked off some couches as we only had 1 beer each). Apparently it houses 1500 people, all of which were wearing white, grey and/or black. Seriously, I think I saw only one girl with a coloured top on (and me!).

Anyway the club was literally under the most (apparently - I had no idea!) famous of Paris' bridges, the Pont Alexandre III . This bridge was completed in 1900 and the first stone was laid by the Russian Tzar Nicholas II (the bridge is named after his father). Its a really beautiful bridge with a whole lot of art nouveau lamps and lots of golden statues. Guillaume and Emmanuel insisted that the bridge is a copy of one in St. Petersburg, however using my extensive research skills (I knew my PhD would be useful for something!) I have not been able to verify this. However, both these guys are vrai (real) Parisians so they should know....

My pathetic knowledge of the bridges in Paris led to a 4am motorbike tour of the bridges along the Seine, finishing up with the Pont Neuf (when I suggested that the Pont Alexandre III was the Pont Neuf - the only Parisian bridge name I knew- Emmanuel was horrified). This bridge is the oldest standing bridge in Paris, and you can see its pretty plain (read: boring) and was completed in 1607. Apparently in summer it is packed along the Seine, however on Saturday night the only action we saw was a rat running for cover (no kidding)!

COPS ON ROLLERBLADES!

LET THEM EAT CAKE!

Epiphany, or the Feast of the Kings is celebrated in France on the first Sunday (after the first Saturday) in January. Traditionally everyone eats galette du roi (the King’s Cake) on this day, however they can be found in patisseries until the end of January. Petite Johnny, Kelly and I had one on the day, and today at work we had another. The typical galette du roi is made of buttery, flaky fine pastry layers filled with frangipane, an almond cream paste. Baked right inside the cake is a tiny ceramic figurine called a fève (literally meaning a bean, which is what they put in galettes long ago). Traditionally the galette is cut and then the youngest person present has to go under the table and assign the slices to everyone (this is meant to give everyone an equal chance of finding the feve. The person who finds the fève is declared the king (le roi) or the queen (la reine) and gets to wear the paper crown that comes with the galette.

Here you can see I won the first time, however not today. Inside was a tiny ceramic teapot with France written underneath it. These cakes taste really good and I recommend that you convince someone you know who is a good cook to make you one! Bon apetite!

FIT TO WORK!

Today I had my medical examination for work. Last week, while I was complaining that this was an invasion of my privacy, one of my German colleagues informed me that this is common practice in Europe when starting a new job.

First I was asked all these questions (in French, even though the nurse could speak English) about my age, my parents age, if they were well, had I broken any bones etc. I also had an eye examination (luckily for me with my glasses on!). When the nurse asked me if I had any maladies, I took this as being sick. Which I decided I could in good conscience say "no" as I don't feel sick. After this I had to give a blood and urine sample, which turned out to be my downfall.

Then I went in to see the doctor, who gave me the funniest examination I have ever had. She felt my feet, my hands and kinda rubbed my body all over. Then the urine test results came back. She looked at them, then at me and asked if I was well. At this stage I knew I was caught! Well, yes I told her, I feel fine. However..... then I came clean. Yes I have 1 kidney, its stuffed and I take all this medication. She says, yes because you have protein in your urine which is not normal. So then I have to pacify her by telling her I play sport (lies), I have a nephrologist in Paris (whom I haven't visited yet). Once I tell her this she looks relieved.

She then gets all mothery on me, tells me I should drink a lot of water, that I can come and see her for blood pressure checkups. Then she checks my blood pressure, tells me its excellent (of course in no part due to the 3 anti-hypertensives I take) and sends me on my way.

Not before ticking a little box on a yellow form called APTE (suited to work!).

FRENCH KISSING.....

Now everybody likes a bit of French kissing..... however upon your arrival in this most romantic of countries, prepare to be overwhelmed, freaked out and a little grossed out by all the kissing here. You need to know a few rules prior to arriving which will help you meld into the most difficult of social situations (unless you are really drunk then you won't care about melding....)

1. Everyone who has already met (guys and girls) kiss each other hello. No handshaking. Yes this means that if you are a guy you will be kissing other guys. Get used to it. It doesn't mean you are gay (most of the time).

2. Kissing goes from your left (once) to your right (once). And the kisses are not slobbery offerings (yes Dazza, take note). They are more like air kisses near the offered cheek (make the "mwa" sound and you're getting closer....)

3. When a girl meets anyone (boy or girl) you ALWAYS kiss hello. No handshaking. I myself have been caught out by this many times already, I put out my hand and the other person grabs it awkwardly and goes in for the kiss anyway. At this party last weekend I spent half the night kissing strangers when they entered the apartment.

4. When a boy meets a girl, he kisses her. And when he meets a boy for the first time, they shake hands. For subsequent meetings, see #1

5. When leaving you kiss EVERYONE even if you didn't kiss at the start.

6. You kiss all sorts of people you wouldn't expect..... my boss (so weird, I could NEVER imagine kissing Brendan, my old boss!), a security guard that I spoke to for 2 minutes etc.

7. Kissing takes time, but don't worry I have never seen a Frenchie in a hurry.

8. Kissing is the reason why I have been sick since Christmas - it spreads germs. So either you choose to face the wrath of an insulted Frenchie, or you choose to inhale all their germs (take note, option 1 is social suicide). You decide....

WITHOUT FIXED ADDRESS....

I keep seeing on the news images of tents being pitched along the canals in a number of French cities, including Paris. It turns out that there is a protest being staged to highlight the issue of homelessness in France, and the ridiculous cost of living here. Homeless people are known as SDF (sans domicile fixe - without fixed address) and this winter Médecins du Monde (doctors of the World) are supplying the SDF with tents to sleep in. It turns out that about 50% of the SDF are actually employed, and another 5% are students, they just cannot afford to rent an apartment.

However the red tents marked with SDF in white are not supplied by Médecins du Monde, they are part of the protest. People can sign up to stay in the camp, not only to learn about the physical challenges of staying warm or being hungry, but about the fears of being removed by police, and by meeting and talking with those who are less fortunate -- face to face. Its an interesting concept and is promoting a lot of discussion here, but will it make a difference????

NOBODY LOVES ME....

So it's been a week since I spoke with Dazza. With each passing day I ring him more and more times, and send him text messages that alternate between being abusive and pathetic. I am thinking he has died in an avalanche (a real possibility since 100 people die in the French alps each year), met someone else, all the usual stuff. So this morning, I decide that I will try and ring the Chalet where he works instead of his mobile. Tom, the guy he works for answers the phone and says, "Dazza lost his phone a week ago....... hasn't he told you???" And he only got it 1 month ago....

I AM 27 GOING ON 15....

So on Saturday night Petite Johnnie and I met up with a Swedish guy, Daniel (they met in South America a couple of years ago) and his gorgeous French girlfriend Julie. After dinner at their apartment, we went to the corner shops to get booze to take to a party. The Parisians call these shops l'Arabe de coin (or Arab Corners) as most of the shops are run by Muslim people. Just one more charming example of how racist Paris really is.

Anyway I am paying for a couple of bottles of wine when the guy grabs my handbag and starts opening it. I'm thinking hes checking to see if I stole anything, but no, he starts stuffing the wine into my bag and garbling in French. After he points to a sign, I realise that in that particular area (Saint Michel, which has lots of bars) you cannot sell alcohol after 9pm. Bizarre! So I spent the rest of the night weighed down by the hidden alcohol in my bag, feeling about 15.

PARIS BY NIGHT....

Well its been a busy week with me starting work and all the visitors I have had. Twinne/Lil' Johnnie has been re-named Petite Johnnie in honour of his first visit to Paris. I must say he has been very excited- the look on his face when he first saw the Eiffel Tower - priceless! So this week we had German Nina and Aussie Simmo here, German Nicki and Aussie Jessie and Petite Johnnie. Here is a photo from the first night we all got together in my apartment (left to right: Jesse, me, Nina, Ing-Marie (who's a Swedish chick in my lab), Simmo, Nicki and Petite Johnnie.

Simmo in particular loves doing impersonations of Frenchies, here is his best French look: a beret, baguette, wine and a blue and red flag (of sorts). You can imagine his accent!

Then as Friday night was Simmo's last night we went to the Batofar which is a boat moored on the Seine which is a club. And a very bizzare one at that. I think the DJ needs to take lessons as the music jumped from techno to brit-pop (eg. Kaiser Chiefs) with no blending. But a great night was had by all as you can see in the photo (left to right: Boofy-Haired Guilliame (my first French friend), Petite Johnnie, Simmo and Kelly).

Unfortunately because we have been out so much at night Petite Johnnie has hardly seen any of Paris. But that's ok because he's talking about looking for a job here!

ALL HAIL MR PASTEUR...

So this week I started work at the Institut Pasteur. This very famous french research insitute is named after Louis Pasteur (1822 - 1895), who worked here. The building my laboratory is in is one of the original buildings (i.e. it looks beautiful from the outside but inside it is a mess!).

For those uninformed readers, Louis Pasteur is considered to be one of the grandfathers of microbiology. He invented pasteurisation, proved the Germ Theory and also produced the first vaccine which was for rabies. Pasteur demonstrated that the fermentation process is caused by the growth of microorganisms, and that the growth of microorganisms in broths was not due to spontaneous generation, an idea which was favoured by many scientists at the time. So for one lifetime he achieved a hell of a lot..... puts my 5 papers to shame!

So the best thing about the Institut Pasteur is the cafeteria. No joke. Everyone the world over talks about this place. Basically the Institute heavily subsidises the cost of food (you have to in France if you have over a certain number of people working for you. If you don't have a cafeteria you give your workers food vouchers for cafes.) and all the food is awarded a certain number of points. Depending on your level a point is worth a certain number of euros. This means students pay the least and lab heads pay the most. So yesterday I had a plate of roast chicken, cauliflour and rice, and a mandarin for the bargain price of 2.89 euros!! And the amount of food everyone eats is crazy. Everything is available - 2 meats, fish, vegetables, desserts, fruit and salads. So I can already tell the highlight of my days will be lunch.... only 2 hours to go!

I'M DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS....

And yes, I am STILL dreaming! Well technically it was a white Christmas, I mean there was snow and stuff but it was on the ground, not falling from the sky like in the songs.

Typically, it starts to snow when I am leaving a place. If you don't believe me, here's proof: The day I left Berlin, it started to snow and continued for the next 3 months. In Basel the day I left it started to snow. In Paris about a year ago, the day I left it started to snow......... Get the idea. So TODAY IN COURCHEVEL WHEN I LEFT IT STARTED SNOWING!

On the left is the view from the Chalet where Dazza is working in Courchevel on Christmas Day. And on the right is the view TODAY.

So now I am DESPERATE for snow (neige in French). In Paris in January there are on average only 4 snow days so surely sometime soon??? But no, on my return to the City of Light all I see is rain, rain, rain and rain. Pas neige.

Anyway I had a good time in Courchevel however I did get deathly ill between Christmas and New Year's although I managed to make a "miraculous recovery" according to Dazza in time to celebrate my Birthday (or NYE for the un-informed).

Here is Dazza and Tom, the guy Daz is living/working with. Although he is a Pom he is a really nice guy. Who is a really good mogul skier and drinks a lot of bier. Who bags Aussies out a lot. And who was devastated to find that yours truly is also a holder of a British Passport.... especially when I called him "brova" in my best Geezer accent (think Original Pirate Material and Mike Skinner).

And here is some random guy from NYE with Dazza and I who was dressed up as Papa Smurf.... cool outfit and all especially as it was about 1 degree and he spent a lot of time outside!

And here I am in the snow at Courchevel 1850 (which is the highest and most fancy of the Courchevel villages) hanging out with the elite of the snow world. Seriously some of the outfits on display in Courchevel have to be seen to be believed. I seriously have never seen so many fur coats and ski outfits with fur trimmings and boots with fur and hats with fur (you get the picture). I felt seriously underfurred there. Obviously the whole "say no to fur" campaign has been really effective in France! The prices on some of these clothes are amazing, here I was thinking I was rich cause I just got my first paycheck in Euros!

Anyway tomorrow I start working, shock horror!