One of the refreshing things about the French is their bluntness, as compared to the euphemisms that increasingly pollute American English.
I was reminded of this over the weekend when I went for a haircut. The coiffeur (itself used as a euphemism in America, the word simply means "haircutter" here, not "hair stylist" or "beauty technician" or the like) asked me if I wanted some "wax" in my hair. Not "styling cream" or "pomade," just "wax." Yet it's the same stuff that gets dressed up in fancier language back home.
The most blatant example of this is one I see every day on my way to work. Next to the emergency brake in the Metro car is a sign in five languages. In French, German, Spanish and Italian, it says, in exactly those words, "All abuse will be punished." ("Tout abus sera puni.")
In English, it reads, "Incorrect use will lead to prosecution."
Eh.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Sicko!, a follow-up
Feeling much, much better today, which reminded me that I never blogged about my previous experiences in French pharmacies.
Pharmacies here aren't like drugstores in the U.S., with long aisles of shelves and a little desk in the back. The only things you can get for yourself are a few beauty aids. Everything else is behind the counter, even things like aspirin, which you can get without a prescription but the pharmacist has to hand it to you, so I guess "over the counter" really is over the counter here. (Except when it isn't -- at least one common OTC medicine in the U.S., hydrocortisone cream, is by prescription only here.)
This seems to be mainly an extreme expression of a trend in French retail toward employing service people rather than allowing customers to serve themselves. Many fruit and vegetable markets don't let you pick your own produce, but rather force you to order it from a clerk.
Coupled with the strict employment laws and regulation of prices, it probably makes it much different, and possibly harder, to run a store here than it is back home.
Pharmacies here aren't like drugstores in the U.S., with long aisles of shelves and a little desk in the back. The only things you can get for yourself are a few beauty aids. Everything else is behind the counter, even things like aspirin, which you can get without a prescription but the pharmacist has to hand it to you, so I guess "over the counter" really is over the counter here. (Except when it isn't -- at least one common OTC medicine in the U.S., hydrocortisone cream, is by prescription only here.)
This seems to be mainly an extreme expression of a trend in French retail toward employing service people rather than allowing customers to serve themselves. Many fruit and vegetable markets don't let you pick your own produce, but rather force you to order it from a clerk.
Coupled with the strict employment laws and regulation of prices, it probably makes it much different, and possibly harder, to run a store here than it is back home.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Sicko!
I had an unplanned encounter with the French medical system today. I am very impressed.
I went to the emergency room for something that I thought I had had before and knew what it was. A CT scan ruled that out pretty quickly so they ordered more tests, including a sonogram. The sonogram was to look for another specific thing, which they couldn't find, but the sonogram doctor kept trying until she came up with something no one else had thought of, which after the fact seemed obvious as a diagnosis.
It's less serious than either of the first two things they were testing for, and assuming the diagnosis is correct I should be fine in a couple of days.
So what, exactly, is impressive about it? Mainly that the doctors didn't seem as rushed as American doctors, and took a lot more time to thoroughly figure out what the problem was. Here they're on salary, not paid by the patient or the procedure, so they probably feel pressure to see fewer patients.
But that doesn't mean longer waiting times. In fact, I was in and out in seven hours including two major tests and two minor ones. And I was pretty busy during that time -- except for two hours waiting for the CT scan, I was either having a test or talking to a doctor at least once every half-hour. At a New York City emergency room, I could easily have spent seven hours without having those tests, which they would send me away to have scheduled elsewhere, later -- that's what they did when I had the similar problem a few years ago -- since my condition was not life-threatening.
I should add that it's not entirely fair to compare the hospital I went to in France, in an upscale suburb of Paris near where I work, with the hospital I went to previously in the heart of Manhattan. This place is probably more like the hospital in Greenwich, Connecticut. But still.
And there was one final delightful surprise in store at the pharmacy: They don't make you wait half an hour while they count the pills out from the big bottles into the little ones. Here, all the medicines (or at least the ones I needed: an antibiotic, an anti-inflammatory and a painkiller) come prepackaged in little boxes containing standard-size doses. One box of this, one box of that and you're out 2 minutes after you walked in.
I went to the emergency room for something that I thought I had had before and knew what it was. A CT scan ruled that out pretty quickly so they ordered more tests, including a sonogram. The sonogram was to look for another specific thing, which they couldn't find, but the sonogram doctor kept trying until she came up with something no one else had thought of, which after the fact seemed obvious as a diagnosis.
It's less serious than either of the first two things they were testing for, and assuming the diagnosis is correct I should be fine in a couple of days.
So what, exactly, is impressive about it? Mainly that the doctors didn't seem as rushed as American doctors, and took a lot more time to thoroughly figure out what the problem was. Here they're on salary, not paid by the patient or the procedure, so they probably feel pressure to see fewer patients.
But that doesn't mean longer waiting times. In fact, I was in and out in seven hours including two major tests and two minor ones. And I was pretty busy during that time -- except for two hours waiting for the CT scan, I was either having a test or talking to a doctor at least once every half-hour. At a New York City emergency room, I could easily have spent seven hours without having those tests, which they would send me away to have scheduled elsewhere, later -- that's what they did when I had the similar problem a few years ago -- since my condition was not life-threatening.
I should add that it's not entirely fair to compare the hospital I went to in France, in an upscale suburb of Paris near where I work, with the hospital I went to previously in the heart of Manhattan. This place is probably more like the hospital in Greenwich, Connecticut. But still.
And there was one final delightful surprise in store at the pharmacy: They don't make you wait half an hour while they count the pills out from the big bottles into the little ones. Here, all the medicines (or at least the ones I needed: an antibiotic, an anti-inflammatory and a painkiller) come prepackaged in little boxes containing standard-size doses. One box of this, one box of that and you're out 2 minutes after you walked in.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Not Qwerty
The hair salon I go to here is quite up to date -- in addition to magazines, they offer Internet terminals to use while you wait.
I hadn't used one until this weekend, and was surprised to discover that it comes with a French keyboard, which is quite different than the American one:
Perhaps the weirdest and most annoying thing about this keyboard is visible at the lower right: the period is only available with a shift key.
That's probably because Europeans interchange periods and commas in much of daily life -- for example, fractions are indicated with commas, so three and a half euros would be written "3,50".
Unfortunately for the French, the period cannot be interchanged with a comma in World Wide Web addresses ...
I hadn't used one until this weekend, and was surprised to discover that it comes with a French keyboard, which is quite different than the American one:
Perhaps the weirdest and most annoying thing about this keyboard is visible at the lower right: the period is only available with a shift key.
That's probably because Europeans interchange periods and commas in much of daily life -- for example, fractions are indicated with commas, so three and a half euros would be written "3,50".
Unfortunately for the French, the period cannot be interchanged with a comma in World Wide Web addresses ...
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Sale!
So, the sales are indeed on:
And because French stores are legally allowed to have sales only twice a year, it takes on a bit of a carnival atmosphere, something like the Barneys sale in New York used to be.
The bargains are indeed bargains -- most things in most stores are discounted between 30% and 50%, which brings them into the general range, and sometimes even the low end of the range, for similar items in New York.
One store selling cashmere even had a line outside, the bargains must have been so good:
Having just filled up on cashmere in New York, I didn't go in to see what the fuss was about. But they certainly need it; everybody is complaining about the cold weather, with temperatures in the 20s, which they're not really used to.
And because French stores are legally allowed to have sales only twice a year, it takes on a bit of a carnival atmosphere, something like the Barneys sale in New York used to be.
The bargains are indeed bargains -- most things in most stores are discounted between 30% and 50%, which brings them into the general range, and sometimes even the low end of the range, for similar items in New York.
One store selling cashmere even had a line outside, the bargains must have been so good:
Having just filled up on cashmere in New York, I didn't go in to see what the fuss was about. But they certainly need it; everybody is complaining about the cold weather, with temperatures in the 20s, which they're not really used to.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Fresh Air Lovers
It has been really cold in Paris this week -- below freezing most of the time, which is quite unusual -- but that hasn't stopped Parisians from enjoying their outdoor cafes:
A lot of it seems to be about the smoking, which has been illegal indoors for about a year. But some people just seem to like the fresh air ...
A lot of it seems to be about the smoking, which has been illegal indoors for about a year. But some people just seem to like the fresh air ...
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
A Chilly Welcome Back
So I got back to Paris this morning to find that Russia had cut off all gas supplies to Europe in a dispute with the Ukraine.
It's hard to tell exactly how big a deal this is here. It certainly doesn't seem to affect me directly; the heaters and oven in my apartment are electric, and France gets most of its electricity from nuclear power. It is probably a bigger deal in central and eastern Europe.
The weather also isn't as bad here as the story makes out; while they apparently had a big snowstorm here a day or two ago, as I write this it is 30 degrees and there is no snow on the ground in central Paris. (Even that is still worse than they are used to.) I did see a picture, which as far as I can tell is not online yet, of snowplows clearing drifts in front of the Duomo in Milan, and TV images of snow falling in Nice, on the Mediterranean, but that seems to have been a freak and localized storm.
The economy is definitely chilly; as I mentioned in my last post, we are now in one of the few periods of the year when it is legal for French stores to have sales, and they are certainly taking advantage:
Whether these 50% discounts apply to everything in the store, as I saw in New York last month, or only to "selected" merchandise, isn't yet clear -- the limited hours of French stores mean that I won't actually get to check it out until Saturday, probably. More to come.
It's hard to tell exactly how big a deal this is here. It certainly doesn't seem to affect me directly; the heaters and oven in my apartment are electric, and France gets most of its electricity from nuclear power. It is probably a bigger deal in central and eastern Europe.
The weather also isn't as bad here as the story makes out; while they apparently had a big snowstorm here a day or two ago, as I write this it is 30 degrees and there is no snow on the ground in central Paris. (Even that is still worse than they are used to.) I did see a picture, which as far as I can tell is not online yet, of snowplows clearing drifts in front of the Duomo in Milan, and TV images of snow falling in Nice, on the Mediterranean, but that seems to have been a freak and localized storm.
The economy is definitely chilly; as I mentioned in my last post, we are now in one of the few periods of the year when it is legal for French stores to have sales, and they are certainly taking advantage:
Whether these 50% discounts apply to everything in the store, as I saw in New York last month, or only to "selected" merchandise, isn't yet clear -- the limited hours of French stores mean that I won't actually get to check it out until Saturday, probably. More to come.
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