Ireland

So, last week I was in Ireland, enjoying the intensely green landscapes, the adorable accents, and the plentiful pints. I stayed at Trinity College Dublin with Rahul, which was a lovely home base, being both beautiful and a tourist attraction in itself, as well as being very centrally located to many of the wonders Dublin has to offer. I took a number of day trips, including to Dalkey and Howth, ocean-side villages just outside Dublin. I was extremely lucky to have spent a week there and only had one day of drizzle.

In Dalkey, we were lucky enough to enjoy a brisk walking tour from a woman from Rahul's creative writing program who has lived there all her life. The views were beautiful, the walk was lovely, we saw Bono's house (or gate...) and the pub at the end was full of very vocal rugby supporters.
In Dublin, my favorite sites included St. Stephen's park, the national gallery, and the national photographic archives. In the last, I sweet-talked my way in to the appointment-only research room and got to wear gloves and look at the collection of a man named Roger Casement, who traveled to Congo as a member of the British Foreign Service and took some interesting photographs of the colonies. I pretended that this was even more relevant to my theoretical master's thesis, and enjoyed myself greatly.

I also traveled to Cork and Blarney, where I toured the extensive gardens and castle and kissed the stone (notice the gift of gab and my newfound eloquence kicking in? yeah, me neither.) In Cork, I befriended some French tourists (what can I say, I missed making language mistakes) and an Irish couple, who took us around to their favorite pubs. It was great fun, and there was live music at one of them, which is always fun.

Lastly, I went to Howth, where I experienced a freakishly glorious day for February, hiked a lot, saw seals, and had a crazy small world experience, when I ran into Dan and Scott Miley, who are from Lexington.

All in all, I highly recommend the Emerald Isle!
I attach some photos for your viewing pleasure.

Cliffs by Howth
Blarney Castle
Dalkey
Seal friend in Howth

Feeding Frenzy

So, I used to (by which I mean I still do, but realize this colors me as somewhat hypocritical in light of what I am about to write) call my mother Suzy Whole Earth, teasing her about her passion for all things free range, whole grain, and organic. But, as it turns out, the pesticide-free apple doesn't fall far from the tree. And so, I am writing this post to confess that
I am turning into kind of a serious food hippie.

This started slowly but surely, with me loving Trader Joe's and trying to buy organic stuff when it wasn't too expensive. Then I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver (highly recommended!), and was inspired to try to buy produce that was both organic and as locally grown as possible. When I came to France, I was happy to find that the local part was very easy. There are farmer's markets in my neighborhood a few times a week, and organic markets in some part of Lyon twice a week. I promised myself to buy only things that were grown in France, leaving me with a pretty huge selection, as well as being able to feel good about myself. Then my hippie frenzy encouraged me to coerce my roomies into buying a bread machine. (We did, it is glorious, I can never go back.) Kingsolver also inspired me to try to steer clear of processed and preprepared food whenever possible, and I am fortunate enough to have roommates who all enjoy cooking, at least occasionally. In my house, we each cook once a week (I'm Sunday) and eat family style about six nights out of seven. The next step in my food fanaticism was the trek out to the Croix-Rousse neighborhood on Saturday mornings to buy from the biggest organic market. (I still haven't managed to coerce my roomies to get up for this though...) Then of course there was the trip to the organic goat farm with the roomies back in October, which deepened my love of all things organic and made me want to make my own cheese. Hey, we all need dreams.

And then, Tuesday night, I went with a friend to a Slow Food Lyon meeting. I had heard of Slow Food, and thought it sounded like a really neat organization, so when Camille asked me to go, I jumped at the chance. (For info on the organization, check out www.slowfood.com) She had joined in September, and said all the people were really nice, and it was a small, multi-generational group. I went along, to a small, high end organic grocery store run by one of the members. The Lyon chapter is very small, which surprised me: there were only 7 of us, so it was very intimate, and they seemed happy to have me. We tasted some organic wines, nibbled on cheese and some spicy tuna spread, and talked about the importance of regional food culture. As an American, this idea is somewhat lacking in my personal heritage. We, with a very few exceptions, don't have local food products and loyalty the way Europeans (and especially the Italians and French) do. To my eyes, the French are already much more appreciative of good food, willing to pay a little more for good quality ingredients, and willing to spend a little more time seeking out and cooking with them. But to real foodies, the whole world, and France in no way excluded, is undergoing a massive cultural food crisis, at the hands of fast food, cheap international produce, and decreasing free time devoted to the culinary arts. So it was very interesting to sit in on a meeting where the members were discussing how to combat these forces.

I found the whole thing fascinating, even though it was a somewhat administrative meeting, as they are in the midst of organizing a big food festival for March. I promised Camille I would help her with her table, where we will be doing a taste testing of the differences between popular mass produced snacks and foods like cookies and pizza and their homemade counterparts. To this end, I have requested many chocolate chips from Jacquie, who is headed stateside for the break. After the dégustation, we will discuss the practical, financial and health-related differences. I am excited to be a part of the atelier, and perhaps eventually, an active member of Slow Food Lyon in my own right. Wish me luck, and bon appétit!

Grève!

So, for anyone who has ever studied abroad or lived in France, this post is inevitable. This is not my first experience with a French strike, far from it, but it does come the closest to hitting home. From time to time, it is hard to find rental bikes because all the public transport workers are striking and there are no metros, buses or trams. This could last a day or a month. Classes in Paris 8 (a university) closed down for six weeks last year due to student strikes. I have a few friends here who are very serious about the whole strike/protest scene, and it is very interesting to hear it described. One of my students asked my permission to come to the other section of class so that he could strike on his usual day. I said of course, and then asked him to explain (in English, of course) the philosophy behind the strike. Similar to the current strike, that one was started to protest the government's proposed changes to the educational system. On the one hand, almost everyone I have talked to agrees that the system requires serious alterations, but on the other hand, the ones that Sarco has approved are wildly unpopular, especially with teachers. The last strike had been started by students, but the current one was started by the profs.
In theory, I would love to strike. I really admire the spirit of protest, and the conviction of all my students when they talk about the reforms. I agree that the reforms (somewhat No Child Left Behind comparable, but worse and more widespread across the ages and into the university system) seem wretched, and yet, something stops me from participating. Maybe it was the fact that it was the first week of classes for the second semester, and I am eager to teach again. Maybe it was the fact that none of the other foreign lectrices were striking, nor was my boss, so I somehow felt I didn't have the right. Maybe it's the fact, that not being French, I can't vote on anything here, so I feel I really can't help a lot. But I think I am just too American at heart. I don't understand the passion that makes people refuse to work, to cut their own pay, to descend to the streets, in the hopes that the government will suddenly choose to listen on issues that the general population will never get to vote on. None of the people I talked to truly felt that the strike would do more than prove their unhappiness. I asked some striking friends what they thought would happen as a result of the strike, and they said that of course nothing would change.
In my eyes, the French strike so often that the act has lost the powerful effect it needs for a huge issue like this. Few can offer realistic solutions. My Yankee gut is to call a senator, try to organize a public forum, or vote a public official in or out of office. And so I didn't grève, I didn't put up signs or blocade the entrances to the school. I also didn't mark anyone absent from my classes, but that's a passive aggressive support at best. I do admire the spirit of dissent, but I just don't possess it in enough abundance to take it to the town square with a witty banner. (or maybe it's my French vocab stopping me...) The day I write here about participating in a strike, that's when you will know I have fully gone Gallic.