The Obama family just enjoyed the perfect weekend in Paris.
It’s not too late for your own Paris trip this year. And you can do it just like the Obamas! Even though the dollar sucks (1.4 to 1 euro), flying and accommodations are the cheapest they have been in years!
Flight: Flying to Europe has never been cheaper (especially in the summer). Summer travel to Paris is starting at 650 (50% lower than last year). My favorite website for finding cheap flights is http://www.farecompare.com/. CEO Rick Seaney (www.twitter.com/rickseaney) also tweets great deals he finds, and he’s found a lot of deals to Europe this year.
Where to Stay: The Obama family stayed at the U.S. Ambassador’s residence located near the Place de la Concorde. The elegant shops of the Champs-Elysées, Concorde and Madeleine areas make these neighborhoods the ideal locations for extravagant hotels. If money is no option, the classiest address in town is the Hôtel de Crillon (www.crillon.com), in an 18th century palace designed by Louis XV.
Now let’s retrace the Obama family’s Paris trip. Over the course of three days, the family hit up all of Paris’ major attractions and even enjoyed a typical French meal.
On Friday, Michelle and her daughters hit up the Eiffel Tower, a MUST for every tourist in the city.
Eiffel Tower (www.tour-eiffel.fr) Don’t save a few euro and skip the 900-foot ride up to the top, not even when you see the long line and high price. I can hear it now: “It costs €11.50 just to go in an elevator?! Oh heck no. All we need is a picture in front of it…” At night, you can see the tower sparkle at the top of each hour.
While Michelle and Barack celebrated D-Day in Normandy, Grandma took Malia and Sasha on a boat cruise.
On Saturday evening, the entire family visited the Notre Dame Cathedral.
Notre Dame Cathedral (www.cathedraledeparis.com) The Notre Dame Cathedral is the centerpiece of Paris’ unwinding arrondissements, or neighborhoods, which are arranged in a spiral around the famed Catholic cathedral. News reports say the crowd cheered jubilantly when Sasha and Malia waved from a balcony high on the church. The president also lighted a candle as a children’s choir sang.
Later that evening, the family enjoyed a typical French meal at a local bistro. The first family enjoyed a moderately priced meal at La Fountain de Mars. No, they didn’t dine a starred restaurant, but one that any tourist can dine at. La Fontaine de Mars 29 Rue St. Dominique, 7th This is a very typical French bistro restaurant with a nice view of the Eiffel Tower. La Fontaine de Mars dates back to 1908 and specializes in rustic dishes from France's southwest region of Bordeaux Perigord and the Basque. The Obamas had the leg of lamb and beef here.
On Sunday, the entire first family visited the Georges Pompidou Center, Paris’ main museum for modern art.
Georges Pompidou (www.centrepompidou.fr) The Pompidou Center is a multidimensional museum focusing on art from the 20th century. It’s the museum you can enjoy when you don’t feel like going to a museum, with bustling activity outside and untraditional art inside, which makes for a refreshing break from “old Paris.” The collection changes constantly, but you can usually count on seeing some Kandinsky, Matisse and Miró. And the building isn’t a joke, it’s art. It was made so that the inside is completely bereft of pipes; all the tubes (color-coded blue for air, green for fluids, yellow for electrical cables and red for movement and flow) are famously on the outside.
After Obama left for home, Michelle took that girls shopping at Bonpoint (www.bonpoint.com) 6 rue de Tournon, 6th) , a high-end children’s clothing store.
After shopping at Bonpoint, the first family hit up the Louvre…another MUST for anyone visiting Paris.
The Louvre Museum (www.louvre.fr) The world’s largest, most famous and arguably most important museum was originally built as a defense structure in 1105. Beginning in the 15th century, King Charles V began developing the fortress into a luxurious residence for royalty. Each subsequent ruler added another wing, as well as their own special touch. In 1989, I.M. Pei’s iconic glass pyramid structure opened as an entrance to the Louvre.
Eartha Kitt appeared in a play with Orson Welles in Paris
We all know that Eartha Kitt, the beloved entertainer, passed away on Christmas Day. Her death struck me harder than the typical celebrity passing, because just 4 months ago I had the privilege of seeing a live taping of her HistoryMakers special, “An Evening with Eartha Kitt. She didn’t seem anywhere near her 81 years (my two Grandmas certainly weren’t wearing slinky velvet gowns at that age). And her high kicks, purrs, and bluntness made the interview unforgettable.
It was during this interview that I learned how critical the city of Paris was to her success as an entertainer. Like Josephine Baker, Eartha Kitt had come to Paris as a member of a dance troupe, and left as a star. She was an original “Black Girl in Paris,” whose time in the city transformed her life.
Eartha Kitt began her career as an entertainer with the Katherine Dunham dance troupe. The troupe had the opportunity to perform in Paris in 1950. For three months, Eartha and the troupe performed into the wee night. Kitt wrote of her Paris experience in her autobiography, Thursday’s Child.
Continue reading "Eartha Kitt: An Original Black Girl in Paris " »
Today I had my first breakdown.
I’ve been living in France for about two months, happily sampling the yummy pastries, eating cheap sandwiches for lunch, even joining a gym. I still felt like an outsider, yet somehow believed that I was slowly becoming a part of the French fabric in my own way.
Until I went to get a bank account.
As weird, strange luck would have it, I was able to find a job here. This is largely impossible, and I would highly recommend against coming here without a job (unemployment is high the French are notoriously wary of foreigners). Providence was shining on me, and after talking to a few friends, I found out there were openings in the French Embassy’s English Assistantship Program. I sent in my resume and within days I was hired! Things happened so quickly: On Monday I found out I got the job, and on Thursday I was arranging to sign my bonafide French work contract. The program director told me that to complete my contract, I needed a bank account. She directed me to a local bank to establish a foreign account. “It will be fine,” the program director assured me, “They’ve helped us set up all the English assistants.” She gave me the name of a Madame Marcelle who had helped ‘several’ Americans get set up, and with name in hand I was on my way.
I found the bank in question, and marched triumphantly into the ‘Accueil’ and said in my best French, “I’m here to open an international bank account. I was given the name of Madame Marcelle. Can you help me?” The tremendously lacquered receptionist replied, “What address were you given?” I told her that unfortunately I didn’t have an address, just a name. She tersely responded, this time rolling her eyes and raising her voice, “What address?” I repeated that I didn’t have more information, just that I’m an English assistant looking to set up an account. With a huff she directed me across the street and tersely said she couldn’t help me. A bit put off by her rudeness, but still cheery, I wandered across the street to a confusing set of doors. I took a gamble and went with door # 2 and walked up to a man sitting at a desk. Again, I said in French, “I’m here to open an International Bank Account.” He says, “To do that you have to go across the street.” “I’ve already been across the street, they told me to come here.” “Oh, well try the fifth floor.” I wanted to ask him if he was sure of his directions, but just decided to take his word for it and get on the elevator to the fifth floor. Once there, I stopped the first person I saw and repeated my bank account spiel. The lady said, “We can’t help you, go to the 6th floor.”
I’m frustrated by this point, flustered and confused. Why is it so hard to find the woman in question? Confident however that I was finally on the right track, I got on the elevator again and made my way to the 6th floor, where I’m confronted by a set of locked glass doors with a call box. Right behind the glass doors are two ladies chatting. I press the call box button. No response. Press it again. No response. I figure since the two ladies behind the glass doors worked there, they’d let me in or at least ask if I needed help. I banged on the door and signaled to them. They motioned to the call box, threw their hands up, seemingly mocked the fact that I was trying to get their attention. Then, they continued their conversation. I couldn’t believe it. Instead of them even asking what I was looking for, they stared at me like I was an annoying gimp and continued their conversation. I was fuming, but finally a male’s voice came in over the speaker and said, “Yes?” “I’m trying to open an international bank account.” The door opens and I’m greeted by a Senegalese man with smart Marc Jacobs sunglasses. I say, “I’m here to see Madame Marcelle.” He says, “She doesn’t work her anymore, but my name is Saeed, I can help you.” He leads me past the two ladies who were so deeply engrossed in their conversation, and I wished I could say, “Thanks for helping!” But of course my sarcasm doesn’t translate easily into French and I settle upon a withering, stank glare. They return my glance as if confused by my rancor.
By the time I sat down to handle the business at hand, I had had it. Saeed went in the back to get some paperwork, and as I waited, thinking about the past 30 minutes, the people I had encountered, and the level of unwarranted nastiness displayed, I began to breathe quickly. My cheeks got hot. And I started to cry.
I tried to stop the tears. I told myself, “You’re too old to cry, just hold it together.” But as one tear started, one more followed in quick succession. Before I knew it, it was waterworks and I looked up to see a confused looking Saeed staring at me with pen and papers in hand. My hands couldn’t wipe the tears away fast enough. I was a sniveling, snotting mess.
Looking alarmed Saeed asked, “Do you want water? A tissue?” I kept refusing, then finally allowed him to get me a tissue. He went to get them and in that moment it felt as if three of his fellow employees suddenly cared I was there and passed by. None asked if I was ok.
Saeed returned, and I thanked him for the tissues while wiping my eyes. Saeed asked me in English, “What’s wrong?” Relieved to finally be able to express myself I my mother tongue, I told Saeed that I just wasn’t used to being treated in that way. I had heard the French were rude, but after four years in New York, I felt I could handle anything. New Yorkers are a loud, pushy bunch. But in New York, you would never go into a professional establishment and be treated as a burden. Imagine going into a Bank of America where the receptionist rolled her eyes, gave you bad directions, then directed you to people who were similarly unhelpful. Heads would roll! Not in France. It seemed everyone I encountered felt it a chore to actually do their job. And on top of not wanting to do their job, they were bad at their job, as witnessed by the three pit stops I made before reaching my intended destination.
All of this I related to Saeed, in between sniffles of course. I told him I didn’t understand why those women were so mean. What had I done? He said, “Hadn’t you heard this about French people? This is how they are.” I had to admit, I had heard it before, but experiencing it was a different beast. He said, “How long do you plan on staying here?” I said, “A Year.” He said, “Get used to it. Learn to ignore it. If you don’t it will ruin your experience.” I took his words to heart. And with my bank papers in hand, I made my way back on the Metro, and tucked into my book on The Magic of Thinking Big. In the end, I thought, who cares about the surly receptionist or the two gossiping ladies? They’re miserable in jobs they most likely hate—and the world is so much bigger then them. So I inhaled. Filled out my paperwork. And guess what? I got my bank account.
Euzhane Palcy’s Rue Cases Négres, is something akin to Roots: The Next Generation, except Rue Cases Négres is Martinique’s story of sharecropping 70 years after France ended slavery. In the 1930’s, the conditions for blacks in Martinique were rather
similar those of blacks in the United States. Rural blacks barely
earned a living working on sugar cane farms. The work was strenuous and
workers were almost in a new kind of slavery: one that barely paid them
anything. But Martinique was different than the American South in that
it was clearly majority black.
The story centers around José, a 13 year-old boy who is being raised by his grandmother in a one-room shack. Even though he is dirt poor, he does not lack in affection, food and friendship. His grandmother (Ma Tine) makes sure he does right, whooping him hen he goes wrong. A local wise man (Medouze) teaches José about his ancestry in Africa. He has tons of friends in town, with whom plays and accidently sets the house on fire.
Even though this film was set in the 1930’s, the moral lesson is everlasting: any poor young person who is raised with good values can succeed through education. José is much smarter than his peers at his local school and he scores a chance to go to a lycée in the big city. His grandmother wants him to succeed so much that she takes a job as a washer woman to pay for the schooling, knowing that the work is too strenuous for her. Eventually José receives a scholarship and his grandmother returns to the country.
Palcy raises some interesting social and cultural issues:
• The Martinique society is clearly dominated the ruling class of whites.
• There was a lot of miscegenation that led to a mixed class of blacks. This is evident in José’s school, where he is the blackest person there.
• In the big city, blacks often worked as servants and maids for whites
• The dissatisfaction that people have in working on the sugar cane farm, but their unwillingness to revolt against the system.
The movie is based on a book by Joseph Zobel. Interestingly, he just recently died on June 18, 2006.
As much as I have complained about France in the last year, there are definitely some good things about this country. The best thing is the Social Security system. I worked in France as an English assistant, and now I have social security for the next three years! That means I can visit any doctor and buy medicine for extremely discounted medicine.
The social security system blew away just this week though. One night, while at a friend’s house, I fell ill. I had almost passed out on the way to her house! I felt like I wanted to throw up. I’ll admit that I had a horrible day trying to manage my finances in a foreign country. I was terribly stressed. Now I was content to just wait out my sickness until the next day, but my friend suggested that we call a doctor to come to the house. Mind you that it was 11 o’clock at night. What doctor visits anyone at their house at 11 o’clock at night!
The S.O.S. Medecin does.
The S.O.S. Medecin is an emergency doctor that comes to your house at any time of the day or night. After my friend called the doctor, he came within in an hour and practically gave me a complete physical! He took my blood pressure, checked my eyes, my stomach… Turns out he couldn’t really diagnose anything specifically in me, but once I told him I was stressed, he quickly wrote me a prescription for stress (have you ever heard of medicine for stress?!)
The cost: 65 Euros that will be TOTALLY reimbursed by social security and insurance. The medicine will also be totally free.
Sometimes life in France is good….
I don't know about you, but I can sure see alot of color in this picture...
France is in the semifinals of the world cup! I watched the game yesterday on a small TV in a sandwich Grec restaurant. One thing I noticed is that the France team has ALOT of black people on it. At any given time out of the 11 people on the field, 8 of the French players are of African descent. Out of the 22 players on the team, 13 are of African descent. This makes France almost like an African team in the second degree. I love this! But I’m not the only one who loves the French team. Based on how crazy and passionate the French fans were for their team, nobody could say that they did not identify with this multi-cultural national team.
Although French fans obviously love their team, it has faced some criticism because of its racial composition. Just recently, the far right French presidential candidate Jean-Marie Le Pen said that he felt French people did not fully identify with their national soccer team because there may be too many "players of colour". Lilian Thuram, a black defender on the French team, quickly put him in his place. In an interview right after the 2005 riots, French intellectual Alain Finkielkraut called the French soccer team, “black, black, black,” because of its racial composition. This was an obviously racially insensitive term that played on the unifying slogan of 1998-“Black, Blanc, Beur.”
When France won the World Cup in 1998, the running slogan for the team and the nation was “Black, Blanc and Beur,” which means Black, White and Arab. The team gained this slogan because of its diverse team of Arabs, Blacks, and Whites, which also reflected France’s own country. Zinedane Zine, a French of Algerian origin, led the team. Lilian Thuram, a French of Carribean descent who grew up in the suburbs of Paris, led the defense and even scored two goals in the semifinals.
Other foreign teams and coaches have even commented on France’s lack of seeming “French” players (even though everybody on the team is French). In October 2004 Spanish national coach Luis Aragones was caught on camera referring to French forward Thierry Henry as a “black (expletive).” In response, Thierry Henry launched the “Stand up, Speak up” campaign against racism in soccer.
If France wins the world cup, I am sure nobody will be complaining.
Ibisso is a new drink developed by Charles Basse. If you have ever tasted bissap-the sweet drink made from steeped hibiscus flowers-then you'll have a clue how Ibisso tastes. Just take bissap and pour some tonic water in it and you have Ibisso! This drink tastes SO good cold (just like any soda, do not drink it warm).
I hope this drink makes it to the states...
I recently traveled to Essaouira, Marocco, a sleepy little beach town off the coast of the Atlantic Ocean. While we were eating our unusually expensive seafood lunch, these men came and danced near our table. The man on the left is hilarious!
I am so sorry for the long time in between posts. I am in a transition period in my life—trying to finish my project, trying to find a job, and decide whether I want to stay in Paris…
In the meantime, I interviewed several important people in the Black Paris community. One of them was Keyza Nubret, the Guadeloupean woman who was featured in the Nouvel Observateur March issue about Blacks in France.
In the article, she was quoted as saying to be black is “to have the blood of slaves.” Such a quote from a black French person is atypical, as black awareness is just starting to pick up steam here. So I knew I had to interview her.
Nubret runs a family fitness business named Shape Up in Paris (read more about it below). I had a very candid conversation with her about the rising ride of “black awareness” in France, black movies in France, and everything else!
How did they find you to be on the cover of the Novel Observateur and why did they choose you?
They had gone on the internet and read an article on me on Grioo.com. The journalist told me she was doing an article about blacks in France. I was excited because we always talk about black athletes, so why not talk about people who are doing something else? The issue sold a lot of copies, I was told.
I read the article and you came across as very proud to be black. Why is it so easy for you to express your “black” pride, but so difficult for other black French people?
I think it is because I attended the University of Miami for a year in 1989. I was there for a year. While I was in the United States I experienced the solidarity of African-Americans. I think that in United States after slavery there was a alot segregation. Therefore, black people always had to be together to make things happen.
And the black people in France?
In France, we had black people in Guadeloupe and Martinique. But they just accepted what (white people) gave to them, like a little job or something like that. Black people who are born (in France) will still say it’s okay, we just have to accept whatever. But black Americans are different. They had to fight for their rights because there were whites on one side and blacks on the other side.
What was it about University of Miami that helped you to express “black pride?”
Well I’ll tell you a little story. One day I was walking to the library with some friends. And some black friends came up to me and said Spike Lee was coming to campus. I asked, “who is Spike Lee?” They said he is a black guy who is doing movies and we have to support him with his new movie, Do the Right Thing. I was so impressed by this solidarity. Some black people didn’t even like his movies or him. But at the same time everybody said, “we have to go there because we have to support him.” I went there and I didn’t understand the film entirely but it felt good to be there. After Spike Lee showed us the movie, he said, “Today you will see the movie for free and tomorrow you should pay to see it.” I’m sure everybody payed to see the film after seeing it for free.
I said to myself, in France that does not exist.
Why doesn’t such solidarity exist in France?
Black people here always want to criticize what other black people are doing instead of letting him do what he has to do? This is the reality. There is no, “We have to go, we have to support him.” Not everybody thinks they are black too. Sometimes I meet famous people and they tell me they are not black. They say they are mixed.
When they girl from Nouvel Observateur interviewed me, she asked me, “Are you black?” I said, “Yea, I am not white.” When I wash my face I am black. I am not yellow or Chinese, I am black. I was also raised by a family who is strong. My mother is very light skinned and my father is dark. But we are all black. For me to black is not a question of color of skin.
Are the black famous people here working to help the black community?
We have famous black actors and athletes but usually they say nothing. They don’t have anything to lose, because if you have the money, then you have the power.
Look at the people who are going to represent France in the World Cup. The majority are black people. When you look and see who is in France, it is black people. But they do not know that they have power. They have yet to understand that power is money. If they make black people work for them, people who have the same qualifications of white people, then they will be helping people.
One person you should meet in Lilian Thuram. He is a soccer player for the French team and he does so much for the black community. For example, he totally funds a black culture show on RFO, called B. World Connection, with his own money. He also spoke about the riots last fall. If only we had two Lilian Thurams. I asked a professor at the University of Miami, Marvin Dawkins, to help me look for a black American actor or basketball player who is doing the same things for the community. I want to make a documentary on the life of Lilian Thuram here and the life of the American guy.
Tell me about your own business, Shape Up?
I have had a family fitness business for a long time. We have Shape Up boutique, which offers people fitness consultations and products. We are doing now our own protein, called American Performance. Unfortunately, you cannot find it in the United States yet. You can find it in France and in Guadeloupe.
How is it having your own boutique in France?
It is difficult. And when you are black its worse. The difference between America and France is that racism is in the front. But here in France, it is hidden. There are some people who don’t want you to do it.
Do you think things are going to change in France?
It’s going to happen. We just have to fight for it. In the past we thought that we were French and there is no problem. It is very hard. But one day when children read the story of France, I hope they will learn about slavery and black people.
Do you think Black Americans can do anything to help Black French?
Yes, there is one thing they can do. There were several black people at the Cannes film festival, like Halle Berry, Beyonce, and Danny Glover. Black American actors should ask the French why there are no black people in their movies. Here everything is so hypocritical because the only black people you see are black Americans. But never Black French.
Also, why is the name Nubret famous?
Well my uncle is Serge Nubret, a famous French bodybuilder who won several bodybuilding titles including Mr. Olympus, Mr World, and Mr. Europe. He also made several movies in the 1960s.
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