Heating up

And so the Olympics are over, life returns to normal and I get off my TV couch and high horse. If my previous blog entry gave the impression of an anti-British view of the London games in France, I should perhaps correct it. In general they have been well received in France, particularly with a minor French gold rush in the final weekend, culminating in a second successive gold for "les Experts" all-conquering handballers. It was rather France TV's sports presenters who I was ranting about, and they can be characterised as a group of grumpy old men nursing a grudge that it was the BBC rather than France TV who were the host broadcasters for the games…

Meanwhile, the domestic sporting arena has been confined to la petite performing gymnastics on the sofa, and a couple of trips to an aquatic complex that opened relatively recently just outside Lyon. With three indoor and three outdoor pools, including paddling pools, 'fun' pools and plain swimming pools it is the ideal place to take a toddler swimming. We'll cure that aversion to getting water in her eyes yet…

Elsewhere life trundles along much as normal. Another aversion of la petite coquinette, that of being examined by a doctor, is still alive, kicking and screaming you might say. A trip to the paediatrician for another jab and a certificate stating that she is safe to be let loose amongst other children in a crèche resulted in the loudest and strongest screaming and struggling fit yet. She is otherwise in perfect health.

The weather recently has been mostly warm and sunny, and the forecast is for temperatures in the upper 30s from this weekend onwards. Good job we are escaping to cool Britannia...

Sour grapes

La bienheureuse et la petite have both suffered but coped remarkably well over the last week while I feed my TV sport-watching habit, though the latter has been displaying more of her naughty side recently, perhaps as a protest at not getting enough attention. My excuse is of course that the summer Olympics only come along every four years, and the Olympics in one of my home countries only come along roughly once every thirty years. Not that I've been able to as fully satisfy my urge as I no doubt would have done had we been living back in Blighty. Coverage of the games in France has more or less been restricted to two channels, and naturally that coverage has tended to concentrate on the fortunes of home heroes. Envious of the BBC's 24 live HD streams, moi?

Early on in the fortnight, TV coverage on France Televisions adopted a tone which was a mixture of the genial and the exultant, as French golds in the swimming, canoeing and judo rolled in. Midway through the first week they were having a quiet snigger at the fact that the host country was still awaiting its first title. No doubt I'm just being cynical, but I detected a bit of revelling in schadenfreude. The games should of course have been in Paris not London.

However, it all changed a week ago when the British gold stream started flowing just as the French one dried up. Firstly the presenters on France TV made a big fuss about alleged British cheating in the cycling and rowing, judges favouring British competitors, etc, etc. The fact that the French cycling coach inconveniently admitted that they would also have deliberately crashed in the event of a poor start was largely ignored. As for the bias towards home competitors, dare I suggest it was bit of a sore point. The games after all should have been in France...

Since then it seems to this particular viewer, albeit perhaps overly sensitive, that British successes have been pointedly ignored. At one point France 2 was showing badminton, a game normally rarer on TV than tiddlywinks, while a track cycling final that ended in British victory was going on. This in a country that is home to the greatest cycling race in the world. Fortunately Eurosport was immune to partisan considerations and showed the cycling. It was almost enough to turn me into a bigoted nationalist.

There has also been constant carping by commentators about problems (transport nightmares) and perceived injustices at the London games, particularly the alleged marginalising of the French language. One presenter was outraged by the lack of announcements in French during an archery event at Lords. Well, what did he expect of an institution that only started admitting women members a little over ten years ago? It was of course a Frenchman who was the driving force behind the first modern Olympics, though a certain Shropshire village claims he got the idea from them. The modern Olympics are a British invention after all. So there…

Tour de force

A British victory in the Tour de France - a bit like a Frenchman scoring a century at Lords. Wiggins does seem to have won over the French public though, with his somewhat crooked sense of humour, quirky personality and willingness to give interviews in reasonably fluent French. And his triumph in what the French see as the ultimate sporting challenge has been welcomed, albeit somewhat grudgingly. Articles I've read have praised the professional, pragmatic way the Sky team controlled the race but at the same time bemoaned the way the spectacle was thus rendered somewhat less exciting than normal. This year's race has been described more than once as one of the most boring ever.

On the other hand, French commentators have also heralded it as a great year, largely due to the French success in winning five stages. In contrast to the boring Brits, the likes of Thomas Voeckler have been hailed for their panache and daring. French flair, quoi…

Twenty one

21st blog post documenting, in a cryptic fashion, life since it was changed by a certain event. La petite's quirky little ways continue to keep us on our toes and entertained. In 21 weeks she's developed from a tiny creature who sleeps, feeds, poos, pees, burps, farts and cries into a smiling, giggling, wriggling, shouting, squeaking, squawking little person with her own fast-developing personality. Latest tricks include raspberry blowing with added saliva (or milk), chin-ups on the bar above her cot (well, almost), testing whether her parents' lips, noses and ears are firmly attached, and turning 180 degrees in her cot.

Life continues to revolve round la petite coquinette, though la bienheureuse reluctantly escaped for a 3rd night abroad on business last week. Père et fille survived well enough on their own, but the reunion was joyous on all sides.

21 degrees: maximum temperature in Lyon on the 24th March, and on the 24th July. The last 21 days (give or take) of what is normally the hottest month of the year have been cool, cloudy and rather damp. While the cooler weather has been a relief chez nous (keeping the nursery cool becomes an obsession)  les juilletistes (yes, French summer holidaymakers are named according to which month they take their breaks) have been complaining vociferously. Les aoûtiens look like being somewhat more fortunate. The latter include the government, on holiday for the first 21 days of the month. Ministers have all been ordered to take their holidays in France, following the controversy last year when certain high-up members of the government accepted holidays in north Africa hosted by leaders who not long afterwards found themselves on the receiving end of popular revolutions.

A wee spot of bother

The Bettencourt affair was pushed briefly off the front pages yesterday by the mise en examen of two international footballers for sex with an under-age prostitute. The summer of Les Bleus grows ever stormier.
 
It wasn't long, however, before the Bettencourt story was back, rolling along with no sign of grinding to a halt. Government minister Eric Woerth's wife was questioned recently by the procureur investigating illegal political funding and nepotism, and the labour minister himself is due to follow her into the hot seat, as soon as he's finished presenting the government's plans for reform of pensions and retirement to parliament. A busy man, Mr Woerth. Not surprisingly opposition MPs have been asking how he can devote himself fully to his job while defending himself against the Bettencourt bribery allegations. One of his alleged crimes was to ask Liliane Bettencourt's financial manager to give his wife a job, and the task of defending himself against the claim wasn't made any easier when said financial manager told the procureur that Woerth had asked him to 'advise his wife on her career'. Quelle difference?

On a more successful sporting note (what is politics if not sport?), this year's Tour de France is being heralded as one of the best in recent years. There certainly has been a fair amount of excitement, with plenty of twists and turns, but I suspect the French view is tinted a somewhat pinker shade of rose by the success of French riders. Six stage wins so far, the most in any Tour for nearly fifteen years. To top it all, three of them came in successive Pyrenean stages earlier this week. The final mountain stage is taking place today as I write, the final climb up the mythic Col du Tourmalet in damp cloudy weather (much like Lyon today - a break in the hot spell at last) certain to decide the overall winner of the Tour. Somehow, I think a fourth successive French win is unlikely…

Lyon is the subject of a bit of piss-taking in the national news today. Municipal police in the Parc de la Tête d'Or cautioned a man yesterday for allowing his three-year daughter to urinate in public. Authorities say it was on the pavement in front of a restaurant, with public toilets only a short walk away. He says he was on crutches, his daughter was desperate, he couldn't get her to the loo on time, and it was under a tree nowhere near the restaurant. Ho hum. He faces a fine of as much as 450 euros if he can't convince magistrates…

Assembly of ruins and murals

The sun shone, the thermometer climbed, and we took advantage of the first real summer weekend to do a bit of exploring. The three day agenda (including Pentecost Monday, a 'semi' bank holiday in France), included lunch at a riverside café and stroll in the park on Saturday, painted wall hunting on Sunday and Roman aqueduct viewing on Monday.

Earlier in the week, on Thursday we were treated to an extraordinary (in more ways than one) meeting of our apartment building neighbours. The main reason the meeting was called was to approve the request to delay the AGM in order to decide on a new management company. Our current syndic is notable only for its incompetence and lack of reactivity, as illustrated by the fact that the AGM should have taken place six months ago, and one of the agenda items is to approve accounts for 2008. Anyway, the meeting once again took a familiar course. Lots of high speed talking, usually two or three people at one time, which meant I followed only about half of what was said. It seems to me that the French, especially the female variety, have brains wired in a different way to my own. They appear to have no problem talking and listening at the same time, and eventually a course of action was decided. The syndic won't be happy…

Les murs peints are a feature of Lyonnais culture, and on Sunday we decided to set out in search of one or two examples off the beaten, central Lyon tourist track. Venturing into the seventh arrondissement, we eventually found le Fresque Lumière and le Mur de Cinéma. Very impressive too, even if the former is better viewed at night when the lighting system brings it to life, but after the latter the six km walk took its toll on two bodies suffering from a mysterious malaise. Not hangovers, I hasten to add, but something else, perhaps the shock of seeing warm, sunny weather again.

We had recovered enough the next day to mount a more ambitious expedition, driving out into the hills to the west of Lyon. Principal attraction of the area is some remains of the Roman aqueduct that carried water from the Monts du Lyonnais to downtown Lugdunum. After admiring the impressive selection near Chaponost, we set off on a 8km walk on the hottest day of the year so far and at the hottest time of day.

Following sketchy directions in a pamphlet and a map illegible without reading glasses, we took a somewhat more roundabout route than intended but eventually stopped for a pleasant picnic lunch by a pond just outside Chaponost. La bienheureuse took over navigational duties thereafter, and we thus retraced the route we should have traced earlier with somewhat greater success, arriving back at the car, hot, sweaty but satisfied. We then drove into the village for a brief look around, finding another painted wall to complete the theme of the weekend.

Squirting and screaming

Suckers for punishment, not having seen enough of the Doctors C and the mini-JeZoids the previous weekend, we set off towards the sun, sand and deep blue sea of the Côte d'Azur on Friday afternoon. Of sun, we saw plenty, but not a grain of sand nor a drop of sea. Two days spent sampling the delights of the French holiday tradition that is the Village de Vacances, venturing out of the security compound only once to visit nearby Fréjus and its Saturday market. Why bother with scratchy sand and salty sea when you've got two swimming pool complexes, complete with slides and safe swimming within three minutes walk?

And so, the weekend was enjoyably spent being regularly subjected to soakings by water pistol and drownings by water nymphs and urchins. As if two mini-JZs wasn't enough to cope with, the caravanning three goldilocks and parents added to the fun. The trip to the market equipped J-junior and Z-minor with weapons, and ensured that we stayed wet even when out of the water. In the piscine, I just about kept my head above water, even with three under-10s clinging to my back. Even an underwater forward roll couldn't dislodge the friendly middle-goldilock, a true water baby.

Mini-J Primus finally allowed us to escape Camp Delta early yesterday evening, once he was assured we were leaving a birthday present behind. We had an uneventful trip home until we neared Lyon, where we were witness to a mid-autoroute road rage incident. No serious consequences, but never cut up a Frenchman on the road...

This morning, we have a little bit of England in Lyon. It's cool, cloudy and damp.

Home swelter

A quiet week since our return from holiday further south, which continued in a way on Saturday evening as we went straight to a 50th birthday party for the husband of a work colleague of la bienheureuse. We almost skipped it through tiredness and the desire to avoid the need to figure out a word play on cinquante ans, a task which the host had set all his guests and involved a public performance. Fortunately we avoided the latter as ma bien-aimée was chosen to sit on the 'judges bench'.

Then Monday rolled round and it was back to work for both of us, this week ending for la bienheureuse with a day trip to Monheim today, and for me with getting book two off to be nicely printed out. Now all I have to do is try and find someone to sell it for me...

The weather has been too hot to do much else, sunshine most of the week and temperatures in the low 30s. A slightly cooler weekend is predicted. Meanwhile, a minor sporting earthquake in Lyon occurred earlier in the week with the transfer of young star striker Karim Benzema to Unreal Madrid. First the title is lost, then Le Phénomène. OL fans are up in arms, and demonstrating their discontent.

Another more welcome change here, hopefully, is the reduction of VAT on restaurant food, which in theory should reduce the cost of eating out by more than 10%. Though reading between the lines, in practice prices are unlikely to come down by that much. Restaurants are free to not pass on the reduction to customers, using it for other things, like staff wages, new equipment, etc, etc. On verra...
And unfortunately, the reduction doesn't apply to alcoholic drinks...

Victoires des bleues, vertes et rosés

The European elections in France followed the rightward trend elsewhere in Europe. The lowest ever turnout allowed the UMP to buck the normal trend of governing parties and get the most votes and seats, though 28% is hardly a thumping majority. The Socialists emulated their cousins across the Channel, failing dismally with only 17% and were almost beaten into third place by the suprise package Green alliance.

On another European battle front, France has claimed victory in the rosé wine saga. Outrage was caused here by the EU's initial plan to allow wine that is merely a blend of red and white to be called rosé, but French viticulturists have now seen justice done with the reversal of the decision. "The death of a product with great history and quality has been averted thanks to the intervention of France and Italy, two countries with a common passion for wine and its intrinsic culture."
Quite so.

In an area of modern culture with rather less tradition, the government has recently received another bloody nose. The law criminalising illegal downloading on the internet, passed recently at the second attempt after an amusing ambush by the parliamentary opposition, has been declared unconstitutional by the Conseil constitutionnel, which has the last word on law making in France. The power of a judge to withdraw internet access for those caught making illegal downloads three times is the main point at issue. Contrary to basic human rights, apparently. The saga continues...

Crowning and gritting teeth

Summer is definitely here, perfectly timed for the bank holiday Ascenscion weekend. Sunshine and temperatures in the high 20s. Yesterday was the bank holiday here, with today being un pont, a bridging day for the weekend when a lot of people get the day off too.

Once again we're almost alone in the building, with me (and flight prices) to blame for not escaping somewhere. I'm off to Blighty on Saturday evening for the season's final game of any importance, so we've had a truncated long weekend. La bienheureuse has been feeling a bit off-colour anyway, and constrained to get some work done at home. Thus we've limited leisure activity to a gentle stroll and sandwich in the park yesterday, and lunch along the river today, though as I write ma bien-aimée is out stomping round the park while an empty printer cartridge and uncooperative airline website get me frustrated indoors attempting to check-in online. I've calmed down now...

Other event of note for the week was the third visit to the dentist in 3 weeks, to get a new crown fitted to a tooth that had almost entirely disintegrated. Long story and lots of money, though social security and la bienheureuse's company health insurance should cover most of it. The former pays for 70% of the supposed 'conventional tariff', which is about a third of what the dentist charges. The French national health system ain't all it's cracked up to be...

Sunshine and melting snow?

The abnormally warm weather in Lyon has continued most of this week, though the sun only really reappeared yesterday. It's forecast to continue most of the holiday weekend too, which is mildly concerning as we're off up into the mountains for a couple of days. Fortunately, this winter has been one of the best ever in terms of snow, so there should still be some left when we get there...

Meanwhile, the city is quiet as people head off for their Easter holidays. Elsewhere, today sees the appearance of the 20000th edition of L'Equipe. A daily sports newspaper with high quality journalism is something sadly lacking in Blighty.

21-15, vingt-millième edition

Highly amusing incident in l'Assemblée Nationale yesterday, where opposition deputés ambushed the government to defeat a law which would have criminalised illicit downloading. The parliament chamber was virtually empty during the debate on the law (an indication of a certain lack of enthusiasm for the law amongst the government's own rank and file), but the UMP majority saw that they outnumbered the opposition by two to one, so called for the vote. Whereupon, a dozen or so opposition MPs, who had been lurking outside, suddenly rushed into the chamber, giving them a 21-15 majority. The law was duly rejected. This morning the opposition are gloating over inflicting a bloody nose on the government, Sarkozy has denounced the 'derisory manoeuvre', and internet users throughout France are rejoicing. The glee will be short-lived, as the unpopular law has already been put on the parliamentary agenda for later in the year.

Today sees the appearance of the 20000th edition of L'Equipe, the venerable French sports newspaper. Founded in 1946, the paper remains among the most widely read daily papers in France, and maintains a consistently high quality of sports journalism that the media in the UK could learn from. Pity its like has never been established across La Manche...

In the dark

Well, we switched our lights off on Friday evening, and the Basilique de Fourvière illuminations also went off for an hour, but not sure many of our voisins did the same. Power consummation in France went down by just over 1%, which is apparently 800 Megawatt, or about 10 million average light bulbs. Hmm, 1 bulb for every 6th person in France. Respectable? Not very...

As you can tell, it's been a quiet week. The good weather fled several days ago, leaving only internationull football, and a changeable spring. The most exciting event of the weekend was the purchase of some nifty forked flowerpots, which fit over the ornamental railings outside our front windows. We can now amuse ourselves watching plants grow. Better than watching paint dry, anyway.

Actually there was one other bit of mild excitement the other day, when we were subject to an attempted street con involving a fake gold ring. Not quite sure how the arnaque was supposed to pan out, but the perpertrator took fright after we enlisted the aid of another pair of passers-by, and we escaped with wallets intact. Hmm, see...? I seem to have started echoing the complaints of a 14 year-old niece - 'nothing exciting happens'...

Sunny present, sea-and-sandless future...

We're enjoying a lovely sunny period in Lyon at the moment. Almost springlike. Evelyne the weather girl told us last night that it's only fitting, with the metereological end of winter tomorrow. Whatever that is. Actually, she did explain. The French tend to say winter starts on the winter solstice, spring on the spring equinox, and so on. Which has always seemed a bit skewed to me. And Evelyne confirmed last night that the coldest months are December, January and February. Therefore winter ends tomorrow.

Only other non-event of note to report is that I didn't receive an email inviting me to undergo psychometric testing. Therefore I'm not going to make the shortlist for the best job in the world. Ah well, best get back to the writing then...

La télé sans pub...

The Sarkozy 'reforms' continue apace. Le hyper-président is currently zooming round the country presenting his voeux to various sectors of work and society. Earlier in the week it was education, where reforms have been less than widely welcomed, though protest marches this week by high school students and teachers were somewhat less well attended than those before Christmas. The cold weather gets to us all.

Then it was the health service and more widely denounced reforms. Yesterday it was the world of culture, and the one reform that has received unanimous approval - free entry to museums for all under-25s and teachers. A cultural reform that has been somewhat less applauded has been the banning of advertising on all channels of state owned France Televisions, and the appointment of the head of France Televisions by the president himself. Sarkozy wants a completely publicly funded TV service 'following the BBC model'. Hmm, good idea or not...?

Advertising hasn't been completely banned yet - it's being phased out between now and 2011, but since le 5 janvier, there have been no ads on France 2, France 3, etc between 8pm and 6am. Protesters say the eventual outcome will be a decrease in funding and decline in quality, and with le Président decreeing who the France Televisions boss should be, independence will disappear too. The government counters that the idea is to channel money towards higher quality programming, documentaries and the like. One thing is for sure: privately owned TV channels, in particular TF1, the most widely watched channel in France, have been rubbing their hands in anticipation. France 2 is the second most popular channel: no ads on France 2 equals more advertising revenue for TF1. Sarko-detractors point out that the owner of TF1 is a close chum of Monsieur le Prèsident...

In Lyon, it was the weather causing headlines this morning. Freezing rain in the small hours, falling on frozen ground, caused the entire region to virtually grind to a halt. Road traffic accidents caused 2 deaths & several serious injuries, the three main autoroutes were closed, traffic was snarled up all around the city, lots of people didn't make it into work, and pedestrians were slipping, sliding, falling and breaking limbs all over the place. Apparently. When I went out at about ten-thirty this morning, the pavements in the city centre (perhaps warmed by the rivers) were perfectly negotiable, and the first I knew about it was when the woman on the checkout at the supermarket mentioned the problems she'd had getting there...

La musique et la litterature

A momentous week in France (quite apart from the global spiral towards financial chaos), which saw the 30th anniversary of the death of Jacques Brel, perhaps France's most famous singer-songwriter, and the announcement of the farewell tour of the man who is perhaps France's most famous living singer, the man they simply call Johnny. In fact both of them are Belgian by birth, but we'll ignore that - the French often do, in the case of les belges wallons.

If Hallyday is best described as a French Elvis who didn't (quite) kill himself young, Brel is much less easily characterised. Newsreel of his stage performances invariably show him alone in a spotlight, dressed in a dark suit and tie, his face covered in a sheen of sweat. He seems to be loved mainly for his lyrics and astute commentary on life. As much a poet as a singer.

Which leads us neatly on to the other big news in the French cultural world - the French author JMG Le Clezio winning the Nobel prize for literature. The news had been widely acclaimed despite the fact that he's half-British.

Flying deer and cultural dynamite

A momentous week in France. And that's ignoring the fact the world's financial system in on the brink of total collapse. I'm talking about something far more important - culture, namely popular music and high literature. There were three big events in France: the announcement of Johnny Hallyday's imminent retirement from live performances; the 30th anniversary of Jacques Brel's death; and the awarding of the Nobel prize for literature to another Frenchman, JMG Le Clezio.

On the domestic front it's been a quiet week. We took advantage of the mini-Indian summer yesterday to have a stroll round town, where there was a bit of a party in Place Bellecour, laid on to celebrate the 40th edition of Le Petit Paumé, a free guide to Lyon produced each year by a team of students. Bands, jugglers, acrobats, tigers in cages, a hot air balloon, and a kite-flying demonstration were all squeezed into the second largest square in France.

Still nice today, but la bienheureuse has just left for the airport to spend 3 days in Brussels, learning how the European Union functions. Guess someone has to...

Cultural weekend

After failing last week to be named European city of culture 2013, Lyon joined the rest of Europe for the journées du patrimoine over the weekend. Our personal appreciation of the city's cultural heritage was somewhat restricted. We ventured out late on Saturday afternoon, intending to look inside the Bourse de Lyon, but got there just as it was closing. Only thing to do then was to continue to the pub where we were able to appreciate an example of sporting culture, as les jeunes Gunners taught Bolton a lesson in the footballing fine arts. On the way home we indulged in more appreciation of another famous example of Lyonnaise art, cuisine.

Beer in pub, wine in restaurant, digestif on return à la maison resulted in a somewhat fragile head the following morning, but nonetheless managed a bit more of the current projet de bricolage, a cosmetic tidying up of our much-discussed french ceiling. And in the afternoon we succeeded in visiting one nearby building open for the journées du patrimoine, the Hotel du Gouverneur, the seat and residence of the military governor of Lyon.

Meanwhile, la bienheureuse is in incessant travelling mode. Brussels again at the end of last week, Germany today, Milan tomorrow. And then Berlin most of next week. Travel for my own work involves the arduous trip from computer to kitchen to make cups of tea and coffee. Such is life.

Lyon, pas de culture 2013

Mild consternation in Lyon last night, following the decision to pick Marseille as the French European capital of culture for 2013. Les lyonnais have invested a lot in the campaign to be elected cultural capital, so it was a bitter blow to see the Mediterranean rivals get the nod instead. Mutterings about state support for la cité phoceéne, ascribed in some quarters to supporting one of Sarkozy's pet projects, the 'Mediterranean Union'. It seems however, that Lyon's main problem was already having a well developed cultural aspect. One of the criteria used by the judges was the need for regeneration, something Lyon has seen plenty of over the last ten years.

So in the end, la cité des gaules, can console itself with the fact that it is already seen as a European city of high culture. Indeed last weekend the city saw the culmination of the Bienniale de la Danse, with a parade through the town centre, described by some as the second biggest dance/music parade in the world, after Rio...

World heritage up our street

The man our road is named after has just had 12 of his creations named as world heritage sites by Unesco. Vauban built a series of fortifications for Louis XIV in the 17th century, all around France, at places such as Briançon, Besançon and Arras. Several along the Channel and Atlantic coasts were intended as defences against the English. Won't stop us living here though...

On another cultural front, Lyon is revving up for its attempt to become the European city of culture for 2013. During an otherwise quiet weekend, we went to the cinema on Saturday, had dinner afterwards (French cuisine being another aspect of their culture that the French are trying to get named as part of world heritage, with Lyon put forward as the prime example), and then strolled home through the park, stumbling on an open air concert which was part of the effort to promote Lyon and its cultural heritage.

Meanwhile the French president continues his efforts to destroy that other French cultural tradition, striking. He caused a minor furore a couple of days ago, quipping during a self-congratulatory speech to UMP party loyalists about his attempts to remould French society, that "nobody notices now when there's a strike in France." Somewhat stretching the truth, I feel...