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Posts tagged ‘France’

No. 92: The Houses of Martinique

The colors of Martinique are a refreshing break from the black of Paris. These brilliant color choices make me smile. How about you?

No. 91: Overseas Departments: Martinique

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One of my goals this year is to see as much of France as possible, so I feel incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to visit one of the five overseas departments belonging to France.

Having secured a sweet deal on flights (it would have almost cost as much to take the four of us to Strasbourg’s Marché de Noël by TGV), I am thrilled that we chose Martinique.

It’s a funny thing to think of a Caribbean island as part of France. I’d love to have a conversation with our new friends here about whether or not they consider themselves French, and what they think about mainland France.

Martinique, like many countries taken over by European and American colonialist, has quite a sad history. The more time I spend on this island, the more I wonder what life would be like here today, if the French had ignored it the way Columbus did when he first sighted it in 1502.

Thanks to Columbus’ indifference, the indigenous population was granted an 85-year reprieve before the French claimed them and began colonization in 1635. This is when the true atrocities of colonial history (now conveniently whitewashed in history books) began. In every article or book I read about Martinique before leaving Paris, the initial colonization of Martinique was reduced to barely two sentences, and it was presented something like this:

“…colonization began in 1635, when the French promised the native Caribs the western half of the island, in return for establishing a settlement on the eastern half. Then the French proceeded to eliminate the Caribs…”

After annihilating 6,500 years of civilization in a few short decades, the French realized they were short on manpower and began to “import” African slaves as sugar plantation workers. With no indigenous population to stand in their way, a tropical climate, an abundance of sugarcane, and free slave labor to boot, Martinique quickly became one of France’s most valuable colonies.

As rum production (from sugarcane), distilleries, and sugar refineries became more lucrative, the African slave trade became even more important to the colonialist and life for the slaves became even more unbearable. In addition to providing the labor for the sugar and rum production, the slaves were also recruited into the island militia to fend off the British attempts to take control of the island. (In return they were promised their freedom.)

The Brits did manage to occupy the island for a short while in 1762, but returned it the following year in exchange for a small country called Canada. They invaded and held the island once again in the early 1800s, but in the end, it was returned to the French.

By the mid-1800s, Martinique had more slaves and “freedmen” than free colonists. Slavery was abolished in 1848. Obviously life was still not peachy for the former slaves and things got worse when in 1902 Mount Pelée erupted and destroyed the capital, Saint Pierre, wiping out 30,000 inhabitants in less than an hour.

So in many respects, Martinique’s society is a very young one, made up mostly of decendents of African slaves , decendents of their former colonial masters, and often a mix of both. Their language is a fusion of Créole and French, with French the official language. The food is a mingling of French and Créole, heavy on the Créole side and influenced by the locally grown products. There is definitely a French vibe to Martinique, but not too much to stifle the vibrant and colorful culture.

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No. 89: French People who want to be Tutoyer-ed

In addition to enjoying the luxury of hanging out with the slow speaking Martiniquais and the confidence boost they provide to my own speaking ability, I also love the fact that the people on this island want to be tutoyer-ed.

Yes. In case you don’t know, the French actually have a verb for calling someone by the familiar form of “you” (tu)tutoyer versus the formal form of “you” (vous)—vouvoyer. So you can actually ask someone if they would like to be “tu”-ed or “vous”-ed.

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I always err on the side of caution and choose to “vous” everyone until I am told otherwise, or notice that they have begun “tu”-ing me. It’s my default position. The way I see it, it’s better to be formal than risk starting off on the wrong side of the rue with the French.

IMG_9212As English speakers, this phenomenon of “tu-ing” and “vous-ing” does not exist in our language, and sometimes I find it too elitist for my taste. I’m guessing my difficulty with the French way of sorting out who is a friend/family versus who is an acquaintance, is the same difficulty but in reverse for the French when they travel to Anglo countries. They must find it quite startling when we greet them for the first time as if we are chums and ask them gamely how they are, when, in fact, they really don’t want to share that information with a stranger.

But the Martiniquais are different. From the minute we met the family we are renting our house from here, it has been “tu”, “tu”,“tu”. When I asked our hosts about it, they simple said, “Mais bien sûr, nous sommes amis, comme de la famille!”

What a delightful change. In my American mindset it makes me feel at ease and makes me feel a greater sense of equality, and all and all just makes me feel good.

Vocabulaire:

Mais bien sûr, nous sommes amis, comme de la famille! But of course, we are friends, like a family. 

rue: street

tu: you, informal

tutoyer: to use “tu” when speaking to someone

vous: you, formal and plural

vouvoyer: to use “vous” when speaking to someone

 

No. 88: French People Who Speak French Slowly

IMG_2804Oh, how I love when the French speak French slowly. Every time I leave Paris and travel around France my confidence gets a boost when I realize I actually know more French than the hard knock Parisians have led me to believe.

It is such a relief to be on the Island of Martinique, the French territory off the coast of Venezuela.  Obviously it’s a relief for many of the normal reasons: work stress, school stress, family dysfunction, etc. The whole tropical-island-paradise-thing certainly helps out with that. But the real relief is being removed from cranky French people, who definitely don’t count patience as a virtue, and wouldn’t dare crack a smile if their life depended on it.

It is a welcome respite to be in a part of France where French isn’t the chosen language, but the colonial language, and where the people are quite happy to have you stumble along in French, so pleased that you are trying.

The Martiniquais don’t seem to give a rat’s patootie if you make a mistake. Their patience is immense, their smiles are large and they seem to have all the time in the world to let you mangle their not so precious language.

Most importantly they speak S-L-O-W-L-Y. And slow is so very appreciated by us not so fluent speakers.

 

 

No. 86: Marché de Noël

Christmas markets can be found in all the major cities of France, and also in the small villages and hamlets. Most of them are characterized by charming wooden chalets, vin chaud, local food specialties, gingerbread, and lots and lots of saucisson.

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They have strayed from their original purpose of supplying rural French femmes au foyer with all the hard to find ingredients for preparing the traditional holiday feast. And while the marché de Noël originated in the northern Alsace region, (belonging to Germany at assorted moments in history) and tend to draws on German Christmas market traditions, these days, at least in Paris most of the “handcrafted” toys and gifts are junky stuff mass produced in China.

That said, I still love them. They do add a terrifically festive feel to France in December. Here are the ones I’ve managed to see this year.

Marché de Noël Suédois, Swedish Church in Paris

I’d never been to a Swedish Christmas market so I really enjoyed this one. It was small and intimate, and the Swedish community was so very friendly. All things Swedish and holiday-ish available, including reindeer sausage, amazing ginger crisps, and of course Swedish meatballs and Glögg. (Held right before Lucia, so you’ve already missed it, but do look for it next year.)

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Marché de Noël, La Défense

More than 350 stands, very jolly despite the chalets nestled in the surreal setting of glass high-rise buildings and the ominous Grande Arche. (November 27-December 28.)

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Marché de Noël, Avenue des Champs-Elysées

The largest Christmas market within the Paris city limits. Incredibly crowded and best at nighttime—if you are going to brave the throngs of people, you might as well see the lights. (November 15-January 5.)

Marché de Noël, Trocadero

About 100 stands, a “snow” village, and an ice-skating rink with the best view of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Lots of tourist, kiddos, African Eiffel Tower sellers, and pickpockets.

Marché de Noël, Notre Dame Cathedral

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Charming and cheery Christmassy views. Good photo opportunities. Beware of the gypsies and their tricks.

Marché de Noël on my bucket list:

Marché de Noël, Strasbourg

The mother of all Christmas markets and the largest and oldest one in France. A pilgrimage for those obsessed with Noël. Set in front of the Strasbourg Cathedral. I’ve seen pictures and the views are spectacular.

Marché de Noël, Bordeaux

Supposedly one of the more “magical” of the French Christmas markets, and of course, a great opportunity to stock up on wine from Bordeaux.

Marché de Noël, Nancy

Even though Nancy, France is my namesake, I have never made it there. I need to. Know for its range of traditional and regional foods and less junk from China.

 

Vocabulaire

femmes au foyer: housewives

marché de Noël: Christmas markets

saucisson: sausage

vin chaud: mulled wine

                          

No. 84: Christmas Lights

Thomas Edison not only invented the light bulb, but we also have him to thank for the lovely (or tacky) strings of Christmas lights we take for granted these days. Always ahead of the curve, in 1880, he strung up the first string of incandescent bulbs around his Menlo Park laboratory compound to attract the attention of commuters on the nearby railway, and ever since then, fairy lights (as the Brits call them), have been an intricate part of the December holidays.

Maybe you are a fan of them, maybe you’re not, but regardless of how they look to you, they are an infinitely better option than sticking candles in a tree or tucking them into your garland.

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Back in the 1700s when Europeans first began lighting Christmas trees, the experience was a lot less relaxing then it is today and required some serious vigilance. The candles were only lit for a few minutes per night, while the families sitting on edge around the tree, readied themselves with buckets of sand and water.

Understandably by the early 1900s insurance companies refused to pay for the damage caused by flaming Christmas trees. So people (exceptionally rich people, that is) began to string lights on their trees. Eventually, when the lights became much, much cheaper, the masses began to light up their trees, homes and village streets.

Which brings me to twenty-first century France where lighted streets and villages are not only the norm but as much a part of the French holiday season as the Bûche de Noël.

Paris is always lovely by night, but at Christmastime it is exceptional. Take a look.

 

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No. 83: Tacky Christmas Trees

What I love about these really tacky Christmas trees in France is that the fact that they exist proves that the French do NOT have impeccable taste, and are, after all, human like the rest of us.

These foam sprayed trees don’t just come in white (to mimic snow), but in every color imaginable, and they seem to be selling like hotcakes.

Tacky Christmas Tree