French politics: countdown to the election

Sunday night, we had our first briefing on the political structure in France. French voters will head to the polls in May to elect a new president, replacing Jacques Chirac, who has been the country's leader for 12 years, and in politics in France for 40 years.

There are three leading contenders (and at least three lesser known ones who pollsters believe have little chance of actually impacting the race). The forerunners are Interior Minister Nicolas Sarkosy, 52, Socialist Segolene Royal, 53 and Francois Bayrou, 55. Royal has drawn the most media attention because she's believed to be the first woman with a real shot at being elected president of France. Obvious comparisons are also being drawn to Hillary Clinton in the U.S. race.

In doing research for this trip, it was easy to see that media coverage of France's elections have intensified in just the past few months, with the election just a couple months away. We Americans (and the candidates)have to endure (and fund) nearly 18 months of media ads and campaigning. That's largely due to France's "tight limits on campaign spending and a ban on political advertising on commercial hoardings in the three months preceding an election." (Reuters: Advertising big guns out for French poll.)

We had the pleasure of learning more about the elections during a fabulous dinner with:

• Stephane Rozes, Director of Opinion Polls and Institutional Studies for CSA, an independent administrative authority that was created to guarantee broadcasting freedom in France, which is somewhat like our FCC, and


• Harold Hyman, a journalist with BFM-TV, a new information outlet using TV, cable, satellite and internet. That's me and Harold below.

They gave us a great overview of the upcoming election and the candidates, however when it came time for questions, one of the GMF fellows remarked that it all seemed to be more about the personal histories, personalities, and positive or negative relations between the candidates and/or Chirac than about issues of importance to the average voter. Yes, I know this sounds similar to the U.S., but it seemed magnified. Where they stood on the issues was not mentioned until we asked.

Our hosts explained that in France's party-run system, issues are set by the parties, not so much the candidates, so issues are not discussed much during the campaign.

I asked about the role of women and minorities in politics since Segolene Royal's ascendency was being so trumpeted. Are there others in the pipeline behind her? The answer is no, again, due to the party structure, which our hosts said makes it very tough for them to rise through the ranks from the local level to national prominence, and even then, it is a very long process, like decades.

I found that discouraging, and was reminded that it was only in mid-2006 (!) that France's national TV channel hired Harry Roselmack, its first black anchor and what an uproar that caused. And that came a year after Chirac urged the media to hire more ethnic minority journalists, and even that tepid boost only came in reaction to riots by Arab youths.

Another GMF fellow asked about the integration of religious and ethnic minorities in France and how that was being handled by the presidential candidates. The ensuing discussion veered off into the headscarf issue that had been hotly debated in France recently: whether to allow the growing number of Muslim girls in school wear traditional headscarfs. A panel was convened to discuss the issue and came up with 25 rules governing religious symbols in schools.

Coming from the Pacific Northwest, one of the least churched areas of the country on a per capita basis, I admitted that I found this amazing because none of the issues being mentioned as the root of the hubbub were at all related to the actual education the kids receive. It was all about perceptions by others and the messages it might send.

When I was in school, I played basketball with a girl whose religion did not allow her to wear pants, and certainly not our uniform shorts. Rather than convene a panel and go the French route, school administrators simply let other schools in the league know that she would be playing in a uniform top with a floor-length skirt for religious reasons. No one really batted an eye and life went on.

Our hosted reminded me that it was a much bigger impact in France, with hundreds of girls taking to wearing the scarves. Also, the panel approach came out of centuries of distrust of mixing church and state/religion and education because the church in France had supported the monarchy and its oppression of the masses before the masses revolted.

"So our feeling is we do not want religion in schools, we do not want religious symbols in schools," said Stephane. "Our view is 'keep the priests off our kids'."

"That statement has a whole different connotation in the U.S.," I said, "But I understand your point."

Our well-fed, better-informed, little group at the end of the night.

The whole evening was filled with questions and discussions like this, comparing and contrasting the French and U.S. approach. Coming in to this trip, I was an avowed lover of all things French, except for the whole absolute monarchy bits mentioned in my previous post. Now, I'm starting to get a more rounded and complete view of the country's complexities, and even its negative aspects, which was inevitable given my overly-rosy view coming in. That's not a bad thing. I see the shift as a result of a more informed view. And being more informed is almost always good.

Versailles: gilt-y as charged

Sunday morning, four of us and our Paris coordinator hopped the Metro to Versailles just southwest of Paris. First, some quick backstory. Although the village (now city) has been around since 1000 AD, it's relevance to the French monarchy begin in the early 1600s when King Louis XIII built a hunting lodge on what was then wooded farmland far from the main castle in Paris. Today, Versailles is a city in the suburbs of Paris.


Louis's successor, Louis XIV undertook a major upgrade and renovation of the chateau in 1661. If you've ever struggled through a home renovation with sliding deadlines, you'll appreciate this: it took 21 years to complete the palace at Versailles. But oh what a project. If I had to describe Versailles in two words, I'd go with gilt and gi-normous (as in gigantic and enormous).

Keep in mind, all the marble stone, floor to ceiling windows, stairwells, wings, EVERYTHING, was built centuries before mechanized construction equipment, computer-aided drafting, and OSHA rules.

Imagine what it was like for the laborers and the precursor to our general contractors. "What do you mean you lost a hand moving a 1/4 ton marble slab for the queen's dressing room? Tough. Try not to block the courtyard with your begging. By the way, the marble wasn't damaged, was it?"
As impressive as this place is, I can't help but wonder how many people died or were maimed in its construction. The royals were not similarly burdened with such thoughts. They saw the largesse as a birthright. In fact, Louis XIV built it out in the sticks away from Paris because he wanted a site that fit his view of an absolute monarchy. A place where he could organize and completely control tne government of France by absolute personal rule. Over the years, he would expand it into the largest palace in the world. It worked great for him and his progeny until the people got a little peeved and started a little dust up called the french revolution in 1789.

But leaving all that aside, the place is mind boggling in its opulence, especially for that time period. After a couple hours of listening to an audio guide describe each room and walking marble corridor after marble corridor of gilt mirrors, hand-stitched, minutely detailed fabric wall coverings, ornate decorations, larger than life size statues and 40-foot ceiling frescoes, my mind just shut down. Oh look, another opulent chamber, like the other six before it.

We barely explored the grounds, which were a whole other expanse of incredible landscape design.

It was definitely worth the trek though.

Paris arrival and food, food, food

So we made it to Paris and checked in to our charming hotel on a side street in the St. Germain area. Cute, cozy room and courtyard view from my window below.


The weather has been amazing: low-60s and sunny every day. When we arrived on Saturday, I caught up with my middle and high school buddy Holly who married a Frenchman and moved here a couple years ago. We missed each other last time I was in town, but I was determined not do do that again. Life's short after all, so you should see friends (especially old ones) as often as you can. :-) Despite a jam-packed schedule, I scurried through the Metro to connect with her and her adorable son Philippe near the Eiffel Tower. Not only is she still as fun and beautiful as ever, she jumped into action when I mentioned that I'd under-packed (yes, after all that angst) and I needed to find a Gap ASAP. Usually I refuse to buy any clothing or food abroad that I can get at home, but sometimes a girl just needs some basic pants, t-shirts and a sweater that fits. :-) So we beelined for the nearest Gap (of course just a couple blocks away), and caught up as we both surfed the racks.


From there, I rushed back to the hotel for our first briefing and dinner with the other fellows.
So we swarmed a tiny neighborhood restaurant around the corner. I say swarmed because we walked in en masse, buzzing with group energy and trip excitement. And in Paris, "tiny neighborhood restaurant" is redundant. The ones away from the tourist areas all seem to hold about 12 people, not including the waitstaff and chef. The entire "dining" room would fit into the waiting area of the average Outback Steakhouse eatery in the U.S.


But instead of choosing from glossy pictures of by-the-book entrees in a laminated menu, all slapped together assembly-line style by indifferent kitchen staff, meals in Paris are beautifully prepared. They are clearly crafted to be lingered over and savored, first by the eyes, then by the palate, not scarfed down while driving and reading a Blackberry (I left mine at home).


In fact, we haven't seen any to go cups or containers since arriving. You're expected to sit and enjoy your meal or beverage, even if it's just a simple hot chocolate, which is my favorite treat here. Notice the size: about 6-8 oz. of pure, rich, chocolatey goodness. Not 12, 16 or 20 ounces.


Coming from supersizeland, it's an adjustment initially. But you soon realize that by eating smaller but more flavorful servings, you feel satisfied sooner, and you can eat more good stuff later without feeling as if you're going to pop a button and take someone's eye out across the aisle on the Metro.



So check out David, another fellow who is an attorney from Cleveland and his beautifully arranged plate. That's crostini topped with smoked salmon and perfectly diced and sauteed vegetables. Note that it is not a slab of salmon and it is not on a platter that could also double as a serving dish for a holiday turkey. And that's just the appetizer!


Here's an artfully arranged salad appetizer with balsalmic vinaigrette and a small breadstick.
And my appetizer: a buttery, flaky tart, topped with flavored sour cream or something (I was too busy eating to double check), perfectly cured prosciutto, sauteed red peppers, cilantro and a balsalmic reduction sauce of some sort. I remind myself that it's bad form to lick a plate in public, even if you can do it stealthily.

Sunday, I'll opt for a tour of the palace and grounds at Versailles, before a dinner and briefing with the fellows and two journalists who cover the U.S. and French politics. More fun to come.

Planes, a train, and a caravan of automobiles

So while I was steaming in the ticket line wondering if I'd get on the plane, my fellow travelers were queueing up to check in. See that: queueing. I've been in Europe three days and I'm already picking up lingo. ;-)


That's Carrie from Chicago in the pink coat. It took me another day to get all 16 names locked in. But the women's were easy: there are only six of us. From there, we all reconvened at the wine bar where a flight delay gave us more time to get acquainted.

That's Kwanza, a city councilmember/business development director from Atlanta, and Tracy, an attorney from Cleveland, plus me in the background.


I didn't get a picture, but minutes later, I had the first of many interesting conversations on this trip with a man from Belgium with whom I shared a table. He asked about out talkative bunch and I told him about the program. His bio is a perfect example of how globalization works and the lessons we'll be learning on this trip about Europe, the U.S. and their complex and intertwined roles in the world. I learned my tablemate is in sales for a company that makes polymers and resins used in manufacturing and mining processes, so he travels all over the world meeting with clients. He was headed home from Singapore for a short break before heading back out to Australia and Hong Kong. But the company he works for is not based in some exotic or European locale - it's in Ohio!


He graciously answered my questions and discussed the European Union, its changing demographics, the questions from existing EU countries about expansion to other far Eastern European nations and what that can mean for the European economy and labor market (and eventually the U.S. economy), the upcoming French elections, European attitudes towards the U.S. (more anger towards Bush and his administration's policies and isolationist approach on the world stage than any bad feelings towards Americans themselves, a response we would hear repeated in the days to come), and several other riveting topics.

It was so refreshing to discuss actual ideas and issues that will likely affect U.S. and European relations and lives in the coming months and years! And guess what? Not once did Anna Nicole or Paris Hilton come up. Try that litmus test with 20 minutes of local or national news. :-)


At the end of our conversation, I thanked him for his time and he gave me a card and said I could call when we returned to Belgium at the end of our trip and if we were interested and he was not traveling, he could take our group on a tour of Brussels. How nice is that?! I'm not sure our schedule will allow time, but I will at least e-mail him when we pass through and thank him again for starting my trip off on an informative and thought-provoking note.

Nine or so hours later, we landed in Brussels and met Daniela, our GMF contact (that's her standing up), who helped us hop a bullet train to Paris, about an hour and 15 minutes away, followed by the caravan of taxis to our hotel, as mentioned in the title of this post.

What you can't tell from the jet lagged, smiling faces is how fun, smart, and accomplished all these folks are. Next to me in that picture is Ellen from NYC who does affordable home lending for a major bank. On the right is Hussein from Minneapolis, who is the founder and executive director of the African Development Center, a non-profit agency there that helps recent immigrants establish businesses.

Behind him is Chad from D.C. who is a VP for an innovation think tank. In the other picture next to Chad is Shyam, a corporate attorney from Atlanta who ran for State Secretary last year. Across the aisle is Tom, a state legislator from South Dakota, who's next to Sam, a North Carolinian who handles new media for a broadcaster there. He's blogging about the trip too. You can read his posts on the WRAL website.


I'll post more later, but we are off on a great journey that is already expanding my mind and exposing me to new ideas - some from residents of our host country, others from fellow travelers. I'll post more next time about the fascinating discussions at our lunch and dinner meetings. The eye-openers just keep on coming. :-) More later!

Dulles near disaster

You know how they have these terrorist watch lists for people with suspicious surnames...like Bin Laden, Ahmadinejad, Smith, or Jones? Yeah, surprise to me too. The frisk at security when I left Sea-Tac should have been a clue. It was my first ever. I'm talking full on, front and back, can you at least kiss me first pat down. It wasn't a complete waste: I now know for sure that my Mary Kay Sun Essentials Lip protector is okay for in-flight transport and poses no threat to homeland security. And I think we'll all sleep safer tonight knowing that.

So we headed to Dulles Friday afternoon for the flight to Brussels. It was wall-to-wall people and the counter staff were being less than helpful. I know: shocking. But our group had pre-paid e-tickets, so we anticipated a speedy check-in. Of course, anticipating and receiving, while both verbs with a bunch of vowels, have little else in common.

When I reached the counter, I was informed that since my ticket said Natasha Jones, and my passport still had my maiden name of Smith, I couldn't check in. Post-9/11 security and all. And they wouldn't accept a copy of my marriage license, which had been sufficient when we flew to Paris two years ago. It needed to be notarized. Never mind that my driver's license and every other card in my wallet has my married name.

"No I CANNOT use your driver's license as proof or change the name," the gate agent said in this offended tone, as if I'd asked her to smuggle me through security in a large rollaboard. "I can be fined $25,000 because of Homeland Security rules, blah, blah, blah." So after 15 minutes in that line, I needed to go to another line on the opposite side of the ticket counters to get this all straightened out. Aaaargh.

I arrived to find several people ahead of me, already in varying stages of distress and exasperation over the wait and the counter staff. This included the first of two woman I would soon see at the counter in tears after dealing with one particular ticket agent, who apparently gave up a lucrative and rewarding career at the DMV so she could "shine" in a whole new milieu.

15 minutes later, I made it to the counter and explained my dilemma. To which she replied with a heavy sigh, "I guess I'll have to learn how to do this today too." Are you kidding me?! There are enough people in line to create marching band formations worthy of the Rose Bowl halftime show and there's someone TRAINING on the front counter?! Aaargh. Let me just save you the 30 minutes out of my life that I'll never get back with this synopsis of what transpired next.

Useless Ticket Agent: I don't know what to do.
Me (trying desperately to appear calm as the clock ticks down to boarding for my flight): Can you call someone who does?
Useless Ticket Agent: I'm not sure.
Me: Maybe that supervisor with the radio next to you.
Useless Ticket Agent: Umm.... Errr.... hmmmm.
Me: Can you just change the name in the computer?
Useless Ticket Agent: No, that's not allowed because of Homeland Security. I can rebook the first leg, but I'd have to cancel the rest of the trip. Do you want me to do that?
Me: Uh, do you want me to beat you about the head and neck with my blow up in-flight pillow?
Okay, I just "thought" that. What I really said was:
Me: No, I do not. It's a three week trip.

More similarly useless suggestions ensue until the gate agent literally standing at Useless Ticket Agent's elbow overhears Act 2, Scene 2 of the three act play Airport Absurdity and says, "I can notarize things. So can she," indicating another agent at her other elbow, both within arms reach of Useless Ticket Agent.

So one of them notarizes the marriage license and uses that to check me in, a process that takes all of six minutes. Not including the preceding HOUR it took to get to that point. After that, I sailed through security and rejoined my group, which had convened in a wine bar to wait for boarding. That's some of them in the picture above.

After episodes like this, I usually say, "I don't drink, but I may take it up today." :-) Hope your day is a lot less eventful.