The More You Change

I'm in heaven. I really am. I was walking to the office today and it hit me. Here I was, in London. Seriously, the city has grown on me and its charms are even more hypnotic now that Dan is here. He arrived on Saturday and we've been having a jolly good time. On that note, it has been raining and the temperature has been as low as 50. Yet Dan and I soldier on. On Monday we went to the National Portrait Museum to check out "The Face of Fashion" exhibition. Yesterday, after putting in a solid day at the office, we saw This is England, a story of a 12-year old boy in 1980's England who becomes a skinhead. The movie was really quite good. As I got up this morning I found myself thinking about the character. It also was an excellent way to familiarize myself to my topic. I saw the gloomy desperation of these working-class people and the gross hate that they dealt to immigrants. I also felt like I was less-sympathetic to the conservative outreach agenda than I had once been. This came at the point when the leader of the gang, Combo, poses a question to a friend of some of the members, Milky, who is Jamaican. He asks him, "Are you English or are you Jamaican?" At that point, Milky stared at the ground for what seemed like an intolerably long time. After the tension had built to an excruciating level, he replied, "English." Combo replied, "Good. We need more like you." Essentially, this is what a lot of the conservative outreach entails. There is slightly less of an exclusive relationship between the two identities, but the cruel choice lurks in the background. In other news, I am thisclose to buying the Blake Lewis EP on Itunes. Is this horrible? I feel like it is. I find him delightful and I love his song choices (we'll ignore that Maroon 5 selection). Now it is back to work for me.

London: Week One

This past week was very nice, if you conveniently forget the whole bed bug fiasco. The first good thing is that I have an office in the political science department at University College London. All of a sudden I have a desk and office mates. This translates into human interactions! Woot woot! I also feel like I have a set place where I can get MSD (major shit done). On my first day at the office I met these other human beings. The first was Canadaian and instantly charming. Yet as we talked I noticed that he was the prototype of a "frenemy." He just slides in these digs in everything he says, mostly about Americans. Because of his false amability he reminds me of one of Bridget Jones's friends. She had this way of saying things that made pathetic Bridget feel even more pathetic. Now Bridget knows that it is on purpose, but it is so subtle that she can't really call the person out. Luckily, my other officemate Jeremy is super cool and I can see us being friends for a long time. There is also Julio, the Argentinean political theorist. HIs English is very charming in that he speaks in a literal translation of Spanish phrases, which are very poetic but completely foreign to any saying that a native English speaker would oncoct. The four of us, as well as other graduate students in the department, went out for drinks. A professor even joined us! He is young and reminds me of the Lebanese-Chilean-English version of Mika (LCEVM for short). He and I really hit it off! We discussed everything, from Derrida's bullshit and how to tell the social class of an Englishman based on how he pronounces "house." Next week he is taking me to Brick Road. Today I went to Oxford to meet Maria, with whom I've been in contact for quite a while. As I approached Nuffield, I was instantly amazed by how much I loved the university and how excited I was to enter the department. Fiver years ago I had visited Oxford and now I was there for a professional meeting! The scene was perfect. It was raining lightly, which made the bucolic scenery just glisten. The lush green complemented the butter yellow of the stone buildings. I was in heaven. We went for lunch in this really nice cafeteria. It was gorgeous and so academic looking, complete with high vaulted ceilings, stone walls, and lamps for lighting. I found out that the school pays for staff members' dinner and lunches. We had an extremely productive conversation over Jamaican chicken and fresh fruit. Afterwards, we went back to the canteen, grabbed some coffee, and made ourselves at home at the, you guessed it, incredibly academic looking staff and student lounge. We have nothing like this at Michigan. There was a large flat-screen TV playing a cricket match, and white-haired professors chatted over (free) coffee to students Maria's fiance joined us. He was still dressed in his cricket clothes as he had practice earlier. He sat down with us and we had a really fun conversation. I learned so much in those two-hours, from British culture and the ins and outs of British party politics in, oh, the last 30 years. I was in heaven. Honestly, I could have died right then and there. I will say it: my dream is to work at Oxford, whether it be for a year (post-doc) or for a very, very long time. So now I'm in my new hotel. Why? Look at this picture: 'Nuff said. DK is coming tomorrow! I am so excited! And on that note, I'm going to bed.

Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite

Cheerio! I am in London and, more specifically, my little office at University College London. This is my first time back since I spent Christmas here in 2002. So far the stay has been a mixed bag. First, the hotel I booked for this week is disgusting. My room is tiny, dark and smelly. The hotel itself has a shower that is missing two doors (they are propped on the wall next to it), won't let you change the temperature of the water, and boasts enough mildew to warrant an army of Mr. Cleans. I am also covered in bites, which I suspect are the fine work of some bored bed bugs. I don't know what to do! Part of me wants to tell the staff and ask for a new bed. I will only be at the place until Saturday morning. Dan is flying in and we are staying at a guest house for the remainder of the time. Second, the people are actually a lot nicer in Paris. Surprise! Yes, they really are. I miss my Parisians. One thing I love is taking the bus to University (in the spirit of the Brits, I am freeing my speech of that pesky article "the"). Another thing is the University itself. I love the first because I sit on the higher level of the double-decker and I eavesdrop. I really feel I learn so much from listening to natives' conversations. I love the latter because it is gorgeous. The school resembles an American university (there is a student's union, a gym, etc.), but on a smaller scale. Moreover, it is unmistakably British. The library is very academic, filled with staircases and frescoes. This contrasts with the library at Sciences Po, which looks like it was designed by the fine people at IKEA. On that note, I joined the gym because (a) I desperately need to work-out and am terrified of being hit while running (luckily for me, at every intersection the words "look right" or "look left" are painted on the pavement) and (b) the showers are far and away much nicer than the ones in my shit-hole, er, I mean hotel. Today I had a marvelous work-out and I am very happy that I found a way to avoid ever stepping into the showers at the Queen's Hotel again. And now, without further ado, I will tackle my work.

Clandestine Blog Entry

All right, so I'm writing this from a secret hallway in the Hilton. It is filled with useless junk, like a white wicker seat wrapped in tulle (hello 70's!) and a silver pelican. Why am I hiding out here? Because the Hilton loves air-conditioning. I, on the other hand, do not. I can see the time and place for air conditioning: summer and south of the Mason-Dixon line. Unfortunately, none of these two conditions hold in MONTREAL, CANADA. Good God. I found this hallway and it has no air-conditioning. Some would call it stuffy, I would call it just right. So anyway, I was a nitwit and changed my hotel for my last night in Montreal. I am staying by the airport, which is a little ways out from the city. This was a mistake. Not putting the hotel here, no, but changing from the charming Champs-des-Mars to the Hilton Montreal Airport. I should have known not to trust anything connected to Paris Hilton. Sigh. They charge you for everything, including the wireless that is allowing me to complain to all of you right now. That said, I had a delicious run this morning and got to watch The Queen last night. So the conference was a moderate success. I did an okay job at presenting my own work. Directly after my panel was the Euroskepticism panel for which I was the discussant. After being scrutinized for an hour or so, I felt remarkably at ease. Yes, no one was going to fire any tough questions to the discussant. Plus, I love an audience, so it was all gravy. And I did just say that. So Ryan Seacrest watch out. I think being an MC really is where my future is. Afterwards, I met up with Jae-Jae and headed to the reception at McGill University. It was very swank. There was free wine and caviar, as well as an impressive cheese tray. And that my friends is why studying European politics is a smart thing. The hall also looked like it was straight out of Harry Potter, which added to the mystique. Loved it! Jae-Jae and I then went out to dinner and it was lovely. She gave me a lot of great tips for conducting field work in France and pointed me to some great literature on party strategy. After our dinner, I wanted to dash back to Paris and get back to work! Jae-Jae is my new girl crush. On Friday I did absolutely nothing. I felt so drained from my running around and presenting that I felt justified in downloading the final episode of America's Next Top Model. I then went out to dinner with Sarah, Jae-Jae, Jae-Jae's co-worker at Iowa, and a bunch of UCLA people. We ate Ethiopian food and had copious amounts of wine. Life is grand. Saturday I explored Montreal. The city is nice, but I wasn't overly-impressed. Perhaps I didn't see the right things? I feel badly for not making the most of this conference. I didn't know whether or not I should go to panels on Saturday given that I didn't have the right clothes (aka, jeans and a polo shirt). I felt if I went to the panels than I would have regretted not exploring the city. And I explored the city and now I regret not attending the panels! Does anyone have any thoughts on this? I should have at least attended one! Oh Jen! Today I've been doing work for Atran and getting excited about London. My flight leaves at 7:45 and I am hoping for some good food (I seriously love airline food) and a nice movie. Then it is back to work for me. Now I must go back to reading trials...must stay awake...zzzzzzzzzzz

Exhausted in Montreal

Well, I am exhausted and I am in Montreal. You want proof? Too bad! I took down the picture of me because it was so horrible. So why did I leave gay Paris ? Well, I'm here for the EUSA (European Union Studies Association) Biennial International Conference. Tomorrow, I'll be pulling triple duty: I'll be presenting the perennial favorite, "Consonant Federalism," chairing the Euroskepticism panel, and acting as the panel's discussant. When I first decided to apply for this conference, I thought, Montreal, how beautiful! Actually, it is FREEZING, windy, and rainy. The good part is that my hotel is a real find; it is very charming. I cannot really enjoy it though because I am EXHAUSTED. It is 11:40 pm Paris time. Sigh. Montreal is the strangest place I've ever visited, I can say that without a doubt. It is as if Ypsilanti and France crashed into one another. I have never seen people that look like they are from Ypsilanti speak French. It's like a twilight zone. The cars look like they are American, but they stop to fill up with "essence." My head is spinning. I don't know what to think! Tomorrow I will get a better look at the city and I can make a better inferences. Also, I have to type out my notes for the discussant gig, but I can hardly keep my eyes open. Finally, I cried on the plane. Why? Because the movie I was watching touched me so, that's why. What movie did I see you query. Well, I don't know if I can tell you. You see, I don't know if we are that close. All right, all right! If you insist. I was watching Freedom Writers. You know, the movie with Hillary Swank that made $2 at the box-office? In my defense, I wasn't the only one touched. My whole section of the plane was RIVETED. Moreover, as I watched it, my own life didn't seem so bad. I also had this feeling that I wasn't doing anything really important. Usually, I'm at peace with this. Yet at this moment, I didn't want to read another paper about navel-gazing Swedes or decentralization and its (putative) effects on identity. And on that high note, I will type these notes. A bientôt!

MacDo

Oooh la la la la! Violent wind and torrential rain just hit the Parisian street, which was met by a chorus with, wait for it, wait for it, "ooh la la la la's!"' I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. Soooo funny! Anyway, today has been an interesting day to say the least. I am in MacDo's in order to take advantage of the free internet. First, I had a deaf girl con me into giving five Euros to a charity for deaf street urchins. Next, an older French man kept on asking me questions about my computer. He just sat right down next to me and started quizzing me about how much memory Xenu (my computer) has, as well as how much I payed for this baby (a lot!). He looks like Gerard Depardieu, I'm not kidding. Finally, I had a nice conversation with a French girl about how gross these bathrooms are. I have never thought of the French as an especially chatty bunch, but I've spoken more French people here than I have anywhere else. The guy next to me just commented to me that "it rains." I swear, it has to be something in the fries. I sent out "Somos"! Five years in the making, baby, and it just might happen. I doubt it, but I 'm glad to finally get that paper out. This means that Dan and I can buy a kitty. We are going to name it Zisou. Last night I had dinner with Thomas, Maria, and Tirone. We went to the Latin Quarter and feasted on paella. It's amazing how much better I am at Spanish than French. Anyway, it was a LOVELY evening. The conversation was excellent and the dessert, creme de Cataluna, was exceptional. Je pars. A bientot!

"C'est un beau jour de printemps parisien."

Last night I fell in love with Paris. Maybe it was the two glasses of wine I drank (they're tiny--I couldn't have just one!). Maybe it was my conversation with Sebastian and Maria after being apart for two years. Maybe it's reading this book that I love: "Un mouton dans la baignoire." Seriously, I cannot put it down. All that said, I have a cold and it is *still* chilly here. It rained last night, which was rather romantic, but did nothing help with the stuffy-nose situation. Sigh. I've chilled out about field work (thanks Jane!) and life has been better since. I've realized this is just an exploratory trip and I don't need to find everything just yet. Today I'm going to the library at Sciences Po and then the Centre Pompidou to check out newspaper articles. It looks like I'm *finally* getting paid for my Atran work. Woot woot! Here is a picture of the view from my apartment: I can't believe that I will be leaving on Wednesday! I head to Montreal for a conference. I am not looking forward to it. After that, I'll be starting my research in London. My month will be followed by a return to Paris. Do not ask how I ended up with this convulted trajectory. On that note, here is a picture I took with my mac of me in the Socialist party archives: And now to work I go. A bientot!

Nervous Wreck

Since I've started this research, I've had this feeling in my stomach, a knot if you will. I can also feel my heart beat faster. If I remember seventh grade health class (shout out to Mr. Harmon!), then I know that this is not good, especially since it has become a constant in my life. This whole thing is so expensive and I feel incredibly unprepared and maladroit. What should I be doing here? Am I finding out anything new? If I were a smoker, I would yank a cigarette out of my pack, light it, hands shaking, and take a long, desperate drag. Wow, that fake smoke kind of calmed me down. Seriously though, if anyone has done this before, this field-work thing, please let me know your secrets.

The French Have Spoken

Here is a photo of the polling station by my place. There was this very cute family heading to the polls, but this guy with the orange backpack stepped right in the way! Foiled! Yesterday 85% of eligible French voters went to the polls and 54% of them voted for Nicolas Sarkozy. I am very relieved. Public opinion polls have consistently shown that the French overwhelmingly consider Segolene as more likeable than Sarko, but on the day of the election, most voters cast their ballot for the tough-talking French minister of the interior, regardless of his personality. While these public opinion polls do not pose that tough question about which candidate you would most like to have a beer with, I'm sure most people would have chosen Sego to throw down a few pints. In the United States, we did have such a question and we (or a majority of the scant percentage of people who actually voted) chose that more likeable person. I'm glad that in France personality is not the salient dimension on which people choose their officials. Why am I anti-Sego? Well, because I don't think her economic programs were good at all. She is a Socialist from the 1970s who proposes policies that she cannot possibly finance. I saw, under her, France regressing in economic power and esteem. Luckily after her defeat she has called for a rethinking of the left and a possible alliance with the centrist party and very economically liberal UDF. Perhaps this will allow the party to keep up with the times.

I'm Awkward

What a weird, yet lovely day! I woke up feeling oddly chilly. It appears that our run of 75 degree weather has ended. Today it was definitely cooler and I, in my noble attempt to pack light, had packed little, nay, nothing suitable for cooler weather. Given that I had worked at the Centre Pompidou until 9:30 the night before, I felt justified in taking the day off and doing some shopping. I started early, around 10:30, and hit Rue de Rivioli, with a plan of buying a sweater and a jacket. Well, unfortunately, the summer clothes were out in full force and there was hardly anything with long-sleeves to be found. After a lot of running around, I bought a blazer at Zara. With the exchange rate being what it is (damn you Bush), I was very loathe to hand over my credit card. Yes, I had sticker shock (gasp!). So I wasn't excited about my purchase. I usually trust my gut right before I buy something. If I'm not jumping up and down in the dressing room (I'm serious) then I don't buy it. So here is the strange thing: shortly after making my uneasy purchase, I found a second-hand store (Paulina and Jessica, you both would have been in heaven! So many of the dresses I saw were perfect for you guys). The place was packed and everything cost about 5 or 10 Euro. Phoenix, the Strokes, and German dopplegangers of the previous played in the background while hipsters dug through the racks of clothes. I felt so out of place. I had to keep on telling myself in my head that hey, I'm cool, or if not cool, a worth-while person. See, this is what being around a bunch of malnourished people in skinny jeans does to you: it makes you feel like a loser*. Well, I bought a jacket (5 Euro), a dress (10 Euro), and two great purses. All of this cost less than the blazer at Zara, which I promptly returned. Woot-woot! Afterward, I went to a cafe by my place and read. It turns out there is free wi-fi there and I will definitely be returning. I called Mel to wish her a happy graduation. Can you believe it? Our little Melba is graduating from college (wild applause, shrieks and whistles)! Congrats! By the way, if you are reading this Mel, did Mom and Dad ever find Grandma? No one knew where she was, and according to Mel, Mom and Dad weren't that concerned. The woman is BLIND! Well, now I have to do my Madrid trial work. A bientot! *Actually, I'm horribly awkward and feel like a loser about most everyone. Sigh.

To Lure the French, Don't Be Too Sweet

Right now I am in my room while tango music plays softly in the main room and snippets of conversation in French floats from the kitchen. I think E's ex-husband is here and they are having a civilized dinner (and conversation, may I add). Today was the 1st of May, which is a holiday in France. Thus, my grand plans of hitting the Socialist archives (one of many--in typical leftist fashion, the party is completely disorganized) were shot, as well as any attempts to read in the Sciences Po library. Dommage. No, seriously. I had a lot planned for the day. Instead, I braved the crowds and hit my old haunt, Les Editeurs, where I downed a coffee elongee and read until it got too noisy. Many people in the cafe were discussing politics. This is unsurprising given that in four days the French will have their second tour of the presidential election. Being the poli-sci nerd that I am, I am thrilled to be here right now. One night, as I headed home from the metro, I saw Sarkozy's camp plastering his posters on top of Ms. Royal's. The very next day, Ms. Royal had been slapped on top of Nicolas. That same day, I saw a well-dressed lady try to tear down a Royal poster, and when that didn't work, she whipped out a permanent marker from her Louis Vuitton bag and tried to draw a mustache on Segolene's perfectly symmetrical face. Love it. In my (futile) attempts to improve my French, I have been downloading podcasts from the French ITunes. I got a really interesting one about the presidential election. In this particular episode the commentators waxed on about France's need for a Social Democratic party, one to bridge the left and right. The commentators were right in principle. The PS is a throw-back from the 1970's and the UMP reflects the French attraction to authority (DeGaulle anyone? How about a little Napoleon? Did someone in the back just throw a shout-out to Petain?). E remarked this morning that any Sarkozy economic reform would be met by mass protest and nothing would change under Sego. I wonder if a party that was ni-gauche and ni-droite would be able to push through the reforms France needs without causing mass unrest? So now I must go back to work. Tomorrow is a big day. I have a lot of things to do and red tape to cut. And on that note, I bid you adieu.