3 November 04
A Few Observations as a Newb in Strasbourg
(“Newb” by the way—or sometimes newbie or noob—means a person who is new to something.)
I’ve been taking my little Moleskine notebook with me everywhere I go. The pocket-sized notebook is great for carrying around in my coat and jotting down notes about what I see or do, or for recording new words and phrases in French that I learn (or need to remember). I love this little notebook, and I would like to thank my good friend Noel for giving it to me. I have since found a bookstore downtown that sells a variety of Moleskine notebooks, so when the time comes, I know where to get another. Anyhow, I thought I would take this opportunity to share what some of my observations have been since I’ve been here in Strasbourg.
Cars and Driving
Some of the details here are probably not too surprising to people, and in fact I probably mentioned this somewhere already, but cars are very small here in France. This is necessary because of the narrow streets and alleys and the tiny parking spaces. It’s also a boon because of the exhorbitant cost of petrol here. I did see one of the new Hummers the other day, which simply looked rediculous among the rest of the traffic, and I’m sure navigating the thing around was a chore as it would not have been able to travel half of the twists and turns that one is faced with downtown. American cars are practically non-existent here, though I have seen a number of really small Fords; models I don’t even recognize. About 85% of all cars on the road are Peugots, Renaults, or Citreons (all French), and the rest are mainly BMW, Audi, Porsche, Volkswagon, and Mercedi Benz. Occasionally you see a Toyota or some other Japanese model, but it’s mainly French and German cars. The BMWs, Audi’s, Porches, and Benz’s are the luxury autos and are definitely a sign of status and wealth here. Most people drive little French hatchbacks and are very happy to do so. As for driving, it seems to me people drive pretty recklessly here, and I mean everybody. I’m always tense and grabbing hold of something whenever Hanane and I go for a drive. Even Hanane seems crazy to me behind the wheel (she has a new silver and black Renault hatchback, which is quite a nice little car). The whole process seems like a game of chicken, which everyone is in on. However, I think it’s just a different system from what I am used to, and it will take some time for me to get in sync with it.
Power Outlets
This is also probably not much of a surprise, but I’ll mention it anyway. The standard French power outlet runs at 240 volts, rather than the 150 volts used in the states. This is significant as I found out one day when I tried to plug in the clippers I brought with me to trim my whiskers. I turned the clippers on and they nearly popped right out of my hand with startling, life-threatening power. I quickly turned them off for fear of them exploding at any second. Note to anyone traveling to France and intending to bring something that needs plugged-in: there’s a good reason for using power converters. Along the same lines, you also need to get a plug converter. I’m sure they are cheaper in the U.S. because the one I bought here (necessary for my laptop and camera) was a whopping 25 Euros (about $32 U.S.), and it’s just a little piece of plastic shit (though it does convert between several different plug styles; I guess different European countries have different outlet types). All-in-all, I really like the power system here; the plugs seem sturdy and safe, and the voltage makes for quick activation of heating elements (e.g., we have an electric teapot that brings cold water to a boil in less than a minute. Fantastic!).
Hypermarkets (L’hypermarches)
There are no hypermarkets in the states. There are two classes of big shopping centers in France: supermarkets (Les Supermarches) and Hypermarkets (L’hypermarches). To get an idea of what they sell, think a combination of Costco and Fred Meyer, where you can buy just about anything, either in bulk or individually. France’s supermarkets are basically like a large grocery store. The hypermarkets are like six Costcos all put together under one roof—I’m not kidding, they’re huge. And for any possible product you can think of, there are mind-boggling numbers of options to choose from. To me it was beyond overwhelming, and I just don’t see the point. (I mean do you really need five aisles of cookie options?) Perhaps there are particular zoning regulations that instigate these single shopping behemoths. I don’t know. On the day I was experiencing the hypermarket, Hanane and I were walking down one of the dairy aisles, and right in the middle of the aisle with people all gathered around (and in the way), was a magician doing tricks on a little table. It made no sense to me why there was a magician in the dairy aisle, but it was curious nonetheless. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera with me that day.
Dogshit (Crotte de Chien)
I don’t know if there’s a poop-scoop law in Strasbourg or not, but I’m guessing not, because there is dogshit everywhere. For a tourist (or a newbie like myself) you have to be very careful, because your inclined to be looking up or around at all the neat things, while not paying attention to the fucking landmines underfoot. It’s terrible! And it’s very clear that the landmines are effective, because nine times out of ten the dogshit I’ve seen has been stepped in by some unwary pedestrian. So far my shoes are clean. (Perhaps I’ll treat you to a photo of a nice pile sometime.)
Fashions
I’m happy to report, because I find it very refreshing, that young people here (very few anyway) do not dress in the tired, old baggy hip-hop clothes that so many American youth still wear. You know what I mean, the gang-banger wannabes who wear that shit down around their asses like peasants, having to hold up their pants just to cross the street (please, motherfuckers, that shit is tired, tired, tired). You will never see anything here like what you see on the corner of Third and Stuart in downtown Seattle. Youth here actually look good; well-dressed and the clothes fit properly. I’m also happy to report (as I expected would be the case) that there are some amazing clothes stores here, and the options are fantastic. A lot is expensive, but there’s also quite a lot of nice things that are cool AND inexpensive. Basically, people here actually give a shit about how they look, and for the most part have some fashion sense to boot. Even the fucking bums look cool, with their berets and striped scarves. (Just kidding, the bums are as ugly here as anywhere else, but they do sound cool with their slurring French accents.)
Well, that’s a few things anyway. I’m sure many more facets of French living will be realized, and when they are, I’ll serve the factoids up in…Dunh-Dunh-Dunhhhhhhhhhhhhh!...The Colloquial Tongue.
