An Emergency Room Visit

Well, just in case you have to go to the emergency room of the Avignon hospital, I thought I'd tell a tale of a most pleasant visit. As in most such cases, this was not a destination I would have chosen to spend my Thursday afternoon, skipping lunch with Isabelle and Paul Pierre and dashing off mere minutes after finishing up in the cheese laboratory. But, when you have multiple teens and pre-teens in your home, I suppose it is simply to be expected that at some point a child will injure himself.

And such was the case. Gaetan was playing basketball with his class, tripped over another's feet, and landed hard on his hand. The firemen and the ambulance arrived, and he was whisked off to the hospital. The school called me on my cell phone, I communicated with Gaetan's parents, and then headed promptly over, picking him up some lunch on the way at my favorite baker's. Once I'd established with the reception desk that I was his guardian, and that his parents were a phone call away, I was brought to where he was waiting. He'd already been x-rayed, and was holding the prints in his hands. The nurse wheeled him back to the Pediatric ward and there we spent a very uneventful and tiresome two hours plus.

At long last, the room used for making casts was liberated (it was also the room for sewing up screaming toddlers) and we toddled on in, set Gaetan down on the examining table, and a most lovely, young doctor got to work, alongside two bright and funny nurses, making his cast.

Our afternoon had been boring, time-consuming and lengthy (no books or magazines on hand for distraction), but far from unpleasant. The overworked nurses were to a person helpful as they could be, the place clean, not over large, and functioning as smoothly as could be managed. And, as we left, we were told the bill would be in the mail.

When I asked how much the bill was likely to be for an x-ray, a cast, the pain relievers, care, etc., I was told, oh, between 25 and 50 Euros.

Life could be a lot worse, hm?

The message here being, do not worry overmuch if you get hurt in Avignon (or France). The ambulance service is rapid and efficient; the hospital clean and helpful; the waits tolerable, and the personnel remarkably affable and competent. And even if you do need to pay out of pocket, I promise, you'll be able to afford it!

Coping on getting some work

I've got to get myself financially in the black this year. It is Monday morning, a week after I've put the kids in school, and, I've got to get my act together. No more leaning on Ma (thank you!), no more leaning on the French State (generous as it is), it is time to land on my feet. This was a far easier task fresh out of University, 22 years of age, with no kids. I just popped around and got temp jobs or whatever. I paid my bills, lived in a tiny apartment, ate minimally. No biggie.

However, I am now 43, divorced with two kids, and have a large mortgage on my house. I'm also living in a foreign country where I feel the permanent disadvantage of a not-complete mastery of the language (particularly the written aspect). And, just in case we weren't all aware of it, there is a world-wide economic crisis going on. Hirings are few and far between for many many industries. Will I succeed where others are struggling? At least I know I'm not alone.

Last year I spent time talking to a counselor appointed by Pole Emploi and also at the Nîmes-based CIBC-- Centre Inter-Institutionel des Bilans de Compétences, a hub of trained psychologists put on this earth to help you figure out where your strengths are and how to put these onto a visually punchy résumé and get it out there to potential employers. I took full advantage of this marvelous socialist system and its free (FREE!!!!) employment and life direction advice. I've been counseled for over ten hours (8 sessions) by professionals. So, I should have a clue.

Problem is, I've actually never gotten a job based on a CV and an interview before. People practice these things. They master interview techniques, self-presentation, key phrases, etc., Call me spoiled or blessed, but I've had many work experiences, but none difficult to obtain: I've worked for my mother helping to run a summer arts festival (great fun and very busy); for Princeton University Press (I was at school next door); for a photography gallery (I walked in the door and admired the Japanese photography on the wall, having written about it in my senior thesis); for a Japanese university (nepotism via Ma, though I must say, I was a good employee to them and they kept me on stipend for two years after my original job was finished, ostensibly to correct English text, but I think also to say thank you); for a Parisian editor -- this grew out of my internship at the Centre National de la Photographie; and then, I created the cooking school and b&b with Erick where I spent most of the past 14 years. Résumé? CV? nah, they were never necessary. I was told to just come in on Monday ready to work. OK.

And now, my means of earning a living in the most recent past, tourism, is not the powerful market it used to be -- which isn't such a bad thing, as much as I loved my clients and touring Provence, I don't miss spending from 7AM to 11PM caring for people other than my children. I'm still carrying around a serious guilt complex concerning my abandonment of my little boys to the care of others for nearly ten years. So, I'll still tour occasionally, but I'll fit these tours into the kids' school schedule, and keep them to a reasonable minimum.

I am facing the need to earn a living along somewhat normal lines, though excluding 9 to 5 in preference to being available to the kids (including my four boarders).

What to do when you're an ex-pat living in France? Well, I've always been told I write well, and thanks to my highly verbal and doctorate-educated parents, my grasp of the English/American language is something I can proffer to a potential employer. I enjoy teaching, I enjoy reading. I enjoy challenges. So, I'm seeking to do what I proudly did not do in Japan -- teach English. But I'm also hoping to get some more translations like the wine tasting notes I did last year, web sites, and hopefully some more cook books.

To this end, I'm polishing up the CV and writing letters -- which are then re-written by more eloquent girl-friends, as the art of writing professional letters in French is not yet a skill of which I can boast.

I've already had one interview with the Wall Street Institute in Avignon to teach English. Apparently I'm on the short list, but more than that, I won't know for a time. And today, I've sent off two CVs to the Rencontres d'Arles de la Photographie, a place I've interned in (that's how I met Erick in the first place) and where I've occasionally served as an interpreter for Japanese photographers. The second I sent to Harmonio Mundi, the editor of classical music based in Arles. I underlined my love and minor-mastery of the bassoon (I'm ok in a teen age orchestra, and playing chamber music with amateurs), and my participation in a singing group at school, hoping these little extras might catch their attention.

Thus, a somewhat profitable Monday morning. Pay bills, cope on jobs, care for Filou's hurt foot. Check.

Friends to count on at a time of (minor) worry

I just had a post 40, immune system isn't so strong anymore, stress-provoked (likely) female incident. Abnormal cells on the pap smear, a bioscopy and a subsequent surgical intervention. From start to finish, it was all a bit of a whirlwind. Even the intervention itself was no more than 30 minutes -- during which I was under general anaesthesia. I have a distant memory of seeing the clock in the "bloc" or operating room say 3:30 (even half blind, I can read a large round clock from across the room), and when I awoke rather suddenly, a tube down my throat, it was just 4pm. All rather surreal.

Over the past month I went from fear and surprise: me? sick? but I've the health of an ox?! To, alright, let's do what's necessary. To, ouch, snipping bits of my uterine skin is rather unpleasant, and super weird to see them floating in a test tube to be sent off to the lab. I felt pretty down and out of it after that bit of snipping... oh it would have been nice to have someone at home to take me in his arms. Ah well. After a few days my normal up-beat personality kicked back in and I felt relief that I've such a dynamic and friendly gynecologist. And after this week, I thank French socialized medicine. As long as you've all the right papers, it just flows like water. I'm now out of the clinic, quickly recovering, awaiting results, and no poorer for it.

In fact, I feel richer in many ways. Friends are there. And they are pretty wonderful. Friends on the phone, friends on email, friends on instant messages, friends there to paint the floor the morning before the intervention (ok, I'm a bit obsessive about all I need to do from now to the end of next week), friends to bring me to the clinic, and to pick me up, a friends who offered and took my boys. Even a friend who's a nurse at the clinic, there to send me into the operating room and at my side when I awoke. And there's even another (Scottish) who's offered to come over Monday with her cleaning lady to help me prep for the rental! (Oh, how I wished that a French friend would have offered a bit of house-keeping after the births of my boys, but even with some super un-subtle hints, it was not to be... thank goodness for practical Anglo-saxons!).

As we say, they just came pouring out of the woodwork. So much love, help, concern, assistance, moral boosting and physical presence. Simply kissing cheeks didn't feel like enough, my arms just have to reach out and hug them tightly to me.

French Women and 'Pouvoir' in its Many Senses

Unless otherwise noted, all materials on this blog are (c) 2009 by Madeleine Vedel

I spent yesterday at an all day seminar for women concerning their relationship to power. Remember, the French word "Pouvoir" is not just power in the sense of strength, but can also be defined as ability, and to be able.

I'm participating in a fully subsidized program for women to help get their lives together, their finances under control, find balance in their lives, put together their resumes, re-evaluate their abilities, find the right job, or put into motion the project that best fits them . . . and much more. It is fascinating. It is run (and the funding was put together) by a team of psychologists who work for a structure called the CIBC (Centre Interinstitutional de Bilan de Compétence), of which there are 100 or so in France. The CIBC is at the root of the "bilan de compétences" which is the program into which both the unemployed, never employed, employed and more can work closely with a professional to figure out what they know how to do, what they want to do, what they have the aptitude to do, etc.,. In general, the CIBC likes to work with people who have outside entities paying for them (your job, the various funds into which employees pay yearly, the unemployment office, etc.,). I stumbled upon their offerings when I attended a meeting with JP who'd done a full bilan de compétence there a few years back. After speaking with a couple of the women who work there, we decided that as I didn't have an institution to pay for a full bilan, that wouldn't be possible, but that they have two programs that are fully funded into which I would fit.

The first is a program for women. And the second is a program designed to accompany me in putting my business project together, finding the information, classes, seminars, advisors, legal structures, eventually funding. I'm still working with the business ideas I've had (and I've put into motion) over the past 10 years with Erick, but this would be, if you will, perhaps more firmly built, and structurally more coherent. And hey, I never refuse advice freely and intelligently offered.

So. Women and Pouvoir. A fascinating subject, no? We began the day discussing key dates in the history of women's rights in France.

The date whereby women were granted the right to vote in France: 1944

(By comparison: New Zealand 1893, Australia 1898/1901, Finland 1906, Norway & Denmark 1913, Russia, Canada, Germany and Poland 1918, Holland, 1919, USA 1869 [Wyoming Territory]-1920, Britain 1918) by the UN to all women 1948.

The date whereby women were granted the right by law to run a business in France by themselves (without the husband's permission): 1965 (If there is an equivalent in British or US law, I'd be curious to know when it is, I'm having a hard time on the internet googling this).

However, as an interesting tidbit, in 1902, an English woman, Rosa Lewis bought the Cavendish hotel in London and ran it herself.

The dates whereby women were granted the right to open their own bank accounts without their husband's permission: 1962

The date when the discussion of equal pay for equal work first was initiated: 1946
The French still do not have an equal pay act, though in the US we passed it in 1963, although few would dispute that it is not always observed.

The date when women were granted the right to take the baccalaureat exam: 1919
The date when women were granted the right to take the same baccalaureat exam as the men: 1924
The date when women were granted the right to take the exam without their husband's permission: 1938

And across the Channel:

At the beginning of the 20th century it was very difficult for women to obtain a university education. In 1870 Emily Davies and Barbara Bodichon helped to set up Girton College, the first university college for women, but it was not recognised by the university authorities. In 1880 Newnham College was established at Cambridge University. By 1910 there were just over a thousand women students at Oxford and Cambridge. However, they had to obtain permission to attend lectures and were not allowed to take degrees.

Without a university degree it was very difficult for women to enter the professions. After a long struggle the medical profession had allowed women to become doctors. Even so, by 1900 there were only 200 women doctors. It was not until 1910 that women were allowed to become accountants and bankers. However, there were still no women diplomats, barristers or judges.

(found on the web site: http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/Wuniversity.htm)

The date when women were permitted on the French stock market floor: 1967. However, they had been banished from it by royal decree since 1724. In the US, women were permitted from 1943 onwards, whereas for the English, this date came later, 1973.

Money = Power

You can imagine that these questions -- as we were asked to guess in each case -- provoked quite a bit of discussion amongst the 40 some odd participants. France is not Scandinavian. The senate is not half women and half men. Parity is an idea, but far from the reality. Salaries for the same position tend to be 20-25% less for a woman than for a man. Women are less likely to get funding for a business project, be it from a bank or from family, etc., We are a long way off.

But what is power to a woman? Power to change the status quo? Power to flaunt and shock? Power to earn and invest money? Political power to govern and affect the public sphere? Power over her own body (the right to abort is a big one, the right to have children how and when we choose to do so). So much is so recently gained. There is no question that women have power over the domestic sphere. And yet that is not considered "work" and the choice to stay at home to raise one's children can result in financial disaster and professional jeopardy. Certainly there is no country in this world that guarantees a woman a decent retirement fund for choosing to spend her strongest working years raising and educating her children. Society benefits when she does so, but it does not reward the woman.

Power is choice, and belief. Power is finding the perfect balance that works for each woman, and ideally, not being punished for your decisions. If you work full time, and love that, and do it well, power means finding people to help you keep the house in order, pick up your kids from school, get meals on the table, and as necessary, educate and raise those kids. If you stay at home and raise your kids yourself, power is having some level of external respect and recognition for your choice. Both should be possible.

I was reminded of a colleague of my mother's, a woman in her 70s who juggled raising her kids, mostly as a single mom, worked part-time, then full time, and finally, when the kids were grown, was able to truly concentrate on her career. She worked her way to the top of her profession, running foundations that focused on education grants for high school programs. A powerhouse in her field, she nonetheless came to it relatively late compared to my generation. But what I remember very clearly was her telling me that she knew how to read a woman's CV. She knew how to interpret the skills honed by a life juggling limited finances, carpooling, initiating group activities, running the PTA, organizing home-work groups, getting every member of the family to each of their multiple after school activities on time. Simply being organized and on the ball enough to keep a complicated household running efficiently. When you really look closely, why couldn't these women transfer these validated skills in budget management, scheduling, people management, time management and multi-tasking into running a corporation or a foundation, or a school or ???

I tried to convey this point of view to the women with whom I lunched yesterday. I think they were rather mystified by what I put in the air. And yes, I know I come across as a rather eccentric, enthusiastic and a bit naive American. And, I realize that they will rarely have in front of them women like Joan, who know how to read a woman's resume. And what a shame that is. Women need mentors to advance, and they seem (from my biased eyes) to be few and far between here. However, I correct myself, the team at CIBC are, and are quite marvelous: positive problem solvers, seeking to bring to the fore these women's skills and attributes as few others in their entourage know nor are willing to do. May they succeed.

Somehow nothing touches me more than wasted resources. And smart and capable women are only too often in this category.

One promising element: my young boys are mystified by stories about little girls whose fathers won't let them inherit a thrown, or who need to be saved by princes. If we could let their generation inherit the earth without the historical baggage we're bringing with us, would they see things differently? For them, at least now, of course girls are as smart, nearly as fast, as adept at climbing trees, bicycling, tossing a ball, what-have-you as boys are. But of course! How silly the past was, and how strange and unfamiliar. And no, I've not yet spoken to them about the Taliban, nor have we particularly discussed veiled muslim women. That will come.