Les temps Monday, Nov 9 2009

Apparently these looked cool lit up...

The French have a contentious relationship with time. When I was younger my father would tell me how he was fond of the fact that as a toddler I would not go to sleep until the minute my bedtime struck. He would later lament when this gave way to the ‘9ish’ ambiguity of my stepmother, complaining it was a relaxed American standard. Today, I know that perhaps compared to the German example ‘9ish’ would imprecise, but to the French, ‘9ish’ regardless of the situation would be early or late pending some standard I have yet to understand.

Monday, under the pressure of an impending deadline at work, I was able to duck out of the office for only 20 minutes to try and stop off at the bank during lunch. Of course from 1230 to 150 pm the bank was closed. It’s not even a lunch hour. Who determines these arbitrary off times? Who deigned the 80 minute Monday lunch, when the rest of the week the bank is open continuously?

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Je ne sais quoi Friday, Nov 6 2009

Hopefully within this logo is a job opportunity

Random thoughts at the end of another work week.

Imagine the successes that would be possible if there were no technical difficulties. I shot a video using a borrowed OECD camera last Wednesday and have not yet been able to properly transfer the footage for editing on my Macbook. The main concern of course being that I am tired of lugging my damn laptop to and from the office on the outside chance I might finally get a functioning .mpg or.mov file to work with.

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Le hockey? Tuesday, Nov 3 2009

Not the Great American Pub

This weekend I was going to finally get the Internet set up in my apartment, and finally, finally watch USC football in the comfort of my own place with beer and streaming video. This did not come to pass, but a better adventure was had.

I began my day searching in Bois-Colombes after successfully navigating the morning market for the first time and purchasing fruit and bread for the week ahead, yes this was a minor accomplishment by my low ex-pat American standards. Afterward I had lunch, and went to the brand new SFR in town. At the store the rather courteous middle-aged clerk retrieved a 3G key from the back room, and began asking for articles of ID. Uh-oh.

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