Vide grenier (carboot sale)

Last Sunday we participated at our first 'vide grenier', literally attic emptying.  It is the French equivalent of a British car boot sale or US yard sale.  In France it is illegal to put up a sign and sell on your doorstep.  So that leaves two choices, either selling through a website such as the 'Bon coin' or to participate in a vide grenier.  Ours was organised by the 'Sou des ecoles', this is an association which raises money for the local primary school.  The money pays for extra materials and helps with school trips.  After paying an entrance fee we were assigned two tables and chairs in the 'salle de fete'.

Eight clock Sunday morning found me bleary eyed with a car full of toys, books, clothes and knick knacks.  The 'vide grenier' was being held in the 'salle de fete' (village hall).  I found our allotted tables and began to set out the stall.  The sales were supposed to start at 10am but the first bargain hunters were already on the prowl.  I made my first sale at 9am, and was proud to have recuperated our entrance fee.  At 10 am by wife arrived to take over, and of course rearranged my layout!  I meanwhile visited some of the other stalls.  I had decided not to buy anything, after all the objective was to have a clear out and not pick up more clutter.  In general people were selling the same as us, so I wasn't too tempted.  The stage had been reserved for the 'depot vente'.  This was an area were people who had clothes to sell, but didn't want to have a stall, could leave them and have them sold by the association.  A small 'buvette' (drinks area) provided free coffee for the stallholders, and sold drinks to the buyers.

It was a wet weekend so things were pretty busy, despite a lull between 12 and 2, while people had lunch.  Our best sales were toys and some children's books in English.  At 4pm we decided to call it a day and counting our takings were satisfied to discover we had made 100€.  

Now I'm looking forward to the next 'brocante' (antiques fair) to spend our earnings.

La rentrée

It's that time of year again, 'La rentrée', this French expression hangs over us like a black cloud.  In essence it refers to the start of the school year, but it symbolises much more than this.  The French live for their long summer break and 'La rentrée' marks the end.  The long, hot days at the beach or pool are over, no more BBQs or picnics.  The days are getting shorter, mornings are colder and everyone knows we'll soon be scrapping ice of our windscreens.  One ritual of 'La rentrée' is the trip to the supermarket to buy the school essentials.  Parents can be seen clutching the lists of stationary demanded by different teachers.  Each subject teacher has there preferences and woe betides the parent who doesn't buy the graph paper required by the maths teacher.  Their child will undoubtedly fail their Baccalaureate.  Another feature of this time of year is the 'Forum d'associations'.  Here parents desperately sign their children up for after school activities, that will see them running a taxi service between clubs the rest of the school year. Meanwhile on the work front, the French return to their offices and factories and compare holidays with colleagues who they haven't seen since July. Now it's heads down until the next holiday at Christmas.

Election time

Last weekend I finally managed to vote in my first Presidential election as a French citizen.  It was touch and go, receiving my electors card just a few days before the vote.  On Sunday morning I set off for the 'salle des fetes' where the vote was taking place.  The names of the candidates are printed on slips of paper, according to French law voters have to pick up two slips before going into the voting booth.  In the booth one of the two slips is placed in a small blue envelope and the other discarded.  An empty enevelope or two names in the envelope represents a nul vote.  The next step is to join a queue at the end of which there are three people.  One person takes the elector card and, in town with more than 3,000 inhabitants, checks the identity.  He calls the name to a second person who checks against the registered voters list, if everything is okay he calls out 'à voter'.  At this point the third person opens the slot on a clear plastic cube and the voter slides the blue enevelope in.  And that's it.
On my turn the person checking my electors card asked, with a small smile, 'How does a person born in England vote in France?'.  I explained that I now had French nationality. 
While his question was good humoured, for me it underlines one of the issues of this campaign, that of foreigners in France.  People are concerned about immigration and the loss of power to the  European Union.  This in part explains the good results for Marine Le Pen and the Front Nationale.  In a time of crisis people are afraid and feel threatened by foreigners.  While I've lived in France for 11 years, and my village for 7 years, and I'm now a French national I don't think I'll ever be accepted as French.  Nobody in my village is openly racist towards me but they always make humourist commenst about 'les Anglais'.
Now we have to wait for the second round to see who comes out on top.  Although I must confess that in the current economic climate there is no real difference or choice.

French nationality

I recently went to the Prefecture to receive my French nationality.  This exactly one year after I handed in my application file, and just in time for me to vote in the coming elections.  I had made the decision to apply for French nationality for two reasons.  Firstly after 11 years in France I am more interested in what the French government does, and want to have my say in that.  The second reason was to have a French ID card which will make life easier, since they stopped giving British nationals a 'carte de sejour'.
The first step was to bring together the necessary documents.  Then I had to take an appointment at the Prefecture to present my application.  I was given a short interview to test my French skills, before being told it would take the Minister of the Interior one year to decide.  Strangely I was never asked the question I expected about my motivations for applying for French nationality.  I should reassure my readers that I still have my British nationality, I am able to keep this.
As predicted by the lady at the Prefecture, it took the Minister a year to decide, and a few weeks ago I received a letter inviting me to a ceremony to collect my declaration of nationality.  So, on the day I smartened up and even put on a tie.  A group of about 60 people had gathered in front of the doors of the imposing Prefecture building.  At 2:15pm precisely, a small door opened in the huge wooden gates.  We were shown into the palatial interior of the Prefecture, with its chandeliers and two huge, garish vases.  After checking our identities, we were led into another room, and sat in rows infront of a video screen.   As we waited we eyed up our fellow nationality applicants.  An older gentleman next to me spied my provocitive Union Jack pin badge, and asked whether I was able to keep my British nationality.  I confirmed that this was the case for European nationals.  He then told me that his Chinese wife was not able to keep hers.  I looked at the young women at least thirty years his junior, and wondered how they had met.  He then asked me if I knew any cheap deals to London, as his wife was keen to go on a shopping trip.  As I looked around the room I spotted a number of older men with young ladies sitting next to them.  Finally after 45 minutes of nervous shifting, murmered conversations, and impatient children, the Prefect arrived in his military style, but rather shaby looking uniform.
He informed us we would watch a video, followed by a short talk by him.  Then we would be called up one by one to collect our declaration of nationality, before being invited to have a drink together.  The video lasted 5 minutes or so and dewlt on the long proud heritage of France, the revolution and the principles of the Republic.  The Prefect then underligned these principles of 'Liberty', 'Equality' and 'Fraternity'.  He also stressed the separation of state and religion, and the respect for others.  Finally we were called up to receive a file containing our declaration of nationality as well as other official documents.  In a neighbouring room we were served champagne or soft drinks and that was that.
I must admit to experiencing something of a climax.  I expected to hear the stirring tones of, and sing along to, the Marseillaise.  Instead our folders contained a paper with the words of the national anthem, and another with the Declaration of the rights of man.   We didn't even have to swear to be faithful citizens.  Maybe I'm being too nationalistic but I felt that it was a sign of our times that the obtaining of a nationality has become a simple bureaucratic process without significance for those who apply.

La folie the sequel

So here the sequel to La Folie.  And frankly it's a disappointment.  A navel gazing, philosophical ramble about the meaning of his life and his search for a soul mate.  One has the feeling that after the success of the first book he felt or was pushed to give us more.  It's easy reading if you've got nothing better to do.

Snow in the mountains

 Here's a few pictures of the mountains near Grenoble at the moment.  We've had lots of snow and it's magnificent.
These pictures were taken on a ski randonée trip.  Ski randonnée involves attaching synthetic skins to the underside of specially designed skies.  These skins stop the skies sliding backwards as you go up the slopes.  Once you reach the summit the skins are removed and you can ski down as normal.  The advantage is that you can go off the slopes.  The disadvantages are that it requires a lot of effort and the descent is often rapid.  In addition the risk of avalanche is higher as the areas are not made safe as in a normal ski station.
Another option is 'racquette' or snow shoe.  Recently we spent a pleasent evening in a refuge listening to an Irish music band.  We started at 7pm walked for an hour and then spent the night in the refuge.  It was cold but we felt very privileged to see the mountains at night.
All that being said I'd like it to warm up a bit now.

English bookshop in Grenoble

The Bookworm Cafe

For those of you living in Grenoble I recommend this small cafe in rue St Laurent.  It sells English books for both adults and children, as well as organising a number of other events and activities. 
Check out the link above.
I am particularly recommending it as it was started by a very warm hearted and generous young lady, who heped me when I first arrived in Grenoble as a novice teacher.  Unfortunately this person passed away just before Christmas 2011, much too young.  Her husband runs the Cafe and as a tribute to her I want it to prosper, so get on down there and tell your friends.
Thanks

The French music scene is quite dynamic and seems to hold its own against the tide of US music.  You've no doubt heard of rock legends such as Johnny Haliday but there are many more to discover.  Here are a few of my favourites.

First there's Renaud with his socially engaged music.


Then newer singers such as Chrisophe Mae, who offers a rock/ reggae mix.


And finaly one of my favourites, Grand Corps malade, who writes slams with a social message.

After the excesses of Christmas and the beginning of the sales, I have started a list.  It is a list of shops I will never set foot in again.  I won't name names but the list grows longer every day.  It ranges from DIY stores, through eletrical goods stores to car parts suppliers.  They are all stores where the attitude of the staff and lack of service has driven me to distraction.
Just the other day, I was in a shop trying to buy a bulb for a stop light on my car.  It was lunchtime and to my surprise the shop was open. The three salesmen wandering around were not exactly run off their feet.  I approached an aisle with a multitude of bulbs and tried to find the one I needed.  Did anyone approach this obviously confused customer?  Of course not, in the end I asked for help.
'We don't sell that one', I was told.  Then his phone range, of course he answered and he wandered off chatting to this clearly more important customer.  I found one of his unoccupied colleagues, who hadn't bothered to answer the phone.
'Your colleague said you don't sell these bulbs', I said.
'Yes', he replied with an air of 'so what'.
'Well do you know where I can get one?', I enquired.
'At a tuning shop', he shrugged.
And that was that, the customer service had finished.
I read somewhere that this lack of service is historic.  The revolution removed the aristocracy and any idea of servants.  This is why civil servants are called 'functionnaires' in France.  They make the system work, they are not there to serve the public.  Once you understand this the whole French administration makes self, as does the lack of customer service throughout society.
However, this doesn't make business sense to me in the retail environment.  We constantly hear that Internet shopping is replacing physical shops.  Today this is becoming a reality for me as my frustration with the attitude of shop staff grows.  The only adavantage shops can have over the internet is a personalised service.  Unfortunately, here in France the lack of service is forcing me more and more to the internet.  And so I my blacklist of shops grows.