Bof.

Not giving a shit is stereotypically french. There is no doubt about that. The French have gone as far as devising a nifty little phrase to give notice of their indifference: 'bof'. Throughout the country, it serves as the universal, all-encompassing answer to any odd or even questions asked. Up to 95% of all 'bofs' come with a similarly typical 'Gallic Shrug':

Despite the not-so-french simplicity and briefness, this inconspicuous verbal discharge comes in a number of forms, and thus, it may hold various different meanings, according to the way it is delivered. 'Bof' can be pronounced with or without vowels (e.g. 'bbrrrffl'). It can be a snotty statement of disapproval, an artfully prolonged expression of helplessness or just an apathetic  way of disclosing pure lack of enthusiasm.  

Yesterday, I was on the receiving end of a world-class 'bof' when I asked the waiter whether he had some mayonnaise to go with my french fries. Very apparently he didn't. I felt like I had just asked for ice cubes to go with my Châteauneuf-du-Pape. When turning back to my french colleagues, looking for answers, all I got was... you know... 'bof'.   

Rien ne va plus.

"Now, when France goes on strike, nobody notices" Sarkozy said at some point after he was elected president of 'la grande nation'. I have lived in France for no more than 3 weeks, and my team assistant has already issued the second strike warning. Somewhat ill-advised bragging by my namesake right there - clearly there's pure chaos in Paris when public transport comes to a stand still. 'Rien ne va plus'...! 
 

Needless to say that in the 30 years I've spent living in Switzerland, there was not one single strike. Swiss trains, trams and buses have time trackers installed indicating seconds off timed schedule. Yes, seconds. The timer display turns red when the vehicle runs beyond one minute late. This is when folks waiting at train stations and bus stops start getting nervous. Not for being late. But something bad might have happened. It's called 'service public' and the Swiss take it seriously.   

The actual french working week has 36.9 hours - on average. Only the German and the Dutch work less. Yet, even after relaxing the (socialist) state-imposed 35-hour week in 2005, France still has the lowest legal maximum of working hours per week. Another statistic reveals the French to spend the least amount of time... actually working. Apparently, the proportion of weekly working time actually spent at work is around 75% in France. In Spain it's 79%. In Italy 83%. European average is 86%. In Poland it's 95%. 

It's how my former (French) finance manager predicted: Productivity in France generally means 'not a lot of actual work, but actually a lot of coffee breaks'. And then yesterday, during a coffee break, my touch down manager revealed to me that I will have around 38 days of vacation - excluding a number of national holidays. 

I am slightly concerned about how I will afford more vacationing with less actual work. But if the French labor system turns out to work for me, too... I can only say 'chapeau'! Well done. Savoir vivre! That is... unless France is on strike again when I want to go on vacation. 

La grande complication.

"La Grande Nation" proves every right to own it's name. France is big. You might think that I - born and grown up in little Switzerland - might just be over-impressed by the relative size of things. After all, Paris is more than ten times the size of Geneva in terms of population - over 50 times, agglomeration included. It's one of the most populated metropolitan areas in Europe.

But I'm talking about administration. A study I found on the internet shows that public employment as a percentage of total labor force in France is amongst the highest in Europe - Only a few nordic countries rank higher in that list. Another study shows that the total public sector performance indicator in France ranks at the bottom of the list of european countries - only Greece and Italy indicators are worse.

The french have a way of complicating things which - under normal circumstances - would seem simple, almost banal. Just to get your apartment fixed up with an internet connection requires to i) be physically present at a service location of your telecom brand, ii) fill a seemingly infinite number of forms, iii) produce a number of documents to prove you are a local, legal, employed, sane and financially fit citizen and then iv) wait an incredibly long time until the service actually gets put in place. I am not trying to be difficult, but in order to get an internet connection in Switzerland, all you need is a credit card and a phone call.

It's nobody's fault. You simply can't point fingers. It's just the way french administration works - since centuries probably. It's the system. And so the French queue up and wait to get things done, silently swearing in condemnation, checking their wrist watches from time to time. Not knowing that, ironically, it is the Swiss who are the real masters of complications. Swiss haute horlogerie invented terms like "striking complication" and "astronomical complication". Some Swiss watches are made up of over 1700 parts, and over 30 complications. And yet, not one of them require to fill a form before you can read the time. 

Pointy brown suede shoes?

OK, what's with the pointy brown suede shoes? Based on a non-representative survey conducted in the 8th and 17th Arrondissement - about 35% of male population in the survey area wear pointy brown suede shoes. 

Maybe there's something I don't get. It could be a dress code of sorts or a symbol of status. All I know is that a significant share of Frenchmen around Paris wear them. I just can't seem to identify the common denominator amongst all pointy brown suede shoe wearers (PBSSW) - apart from the pointy brown suede shoes. 

To be honest, I am surprised to observe that many PBSSW in the capital of fashion. I am certainly not the person to take fashion advice from, but I can tell the good from the bad. I guess you could wear them and still look good - just (probably) not with jeans, chinos or black trousers. It makes the PBSSW look old-fashioned and somewhat clumsy. They could (probably) go well with a navy suit. Personally I would only wear them with a dark brown felt or plush suit, a big afro wig and a fake moustache. 

Maybe pointy brown suede shoes were part of the standard french school uniform a few years back, and some just have a hard time to let go - old habits.

A Swiss in Frenchland

About this blog: Surely something similar has been done before. And, yes, I know about "A Year in Merde" (I promise to read it!). But this blog is for myself - call it 'egotherapy'. And then, of course, I wouldn't mind if some of my friends and family stop by here every now and then, to see how things go. It's as simple as that.

About France: I've been in France a number of times, in a number of places, for a number of reasons - and I've always enjoyed it very much. The food, the wine, the landscapes... This country definitely has a lot to offer. France is a country to be proud of. And I don't mean this to sound like a disclaimer. I truly believe that France is a great nation - in the big scheme of things.

About Paris: Of course, Paris is not France. It makes for a big part of what France stands for in tthe global eye, but it's not an all-encompassing ball of condensed Frenchness. It's very French, but... different - as far as I can see. Paris is easy to get to from Switzerland, and so I have toured Paris many times for sightseeing. I am still in awe when walking past its many monumental buildings and through its many parks and charming 'quartiers'. But the original excitement has worn off, a bit, and I start to get more detailed in my observation. This is where things get  interesting.

About Observations: Over the past few weeks, I've been traveling back and forth between Geneva and Paris, spending a lot of time in public transport, making a lot of observations. Little anecdotes of frenchness. Things I believe are very typically French. Peculiarities anyone could pick up in any country. But since I live here, in Paris, France - I observe french idiosyncrasies. The good and the bad. Here's what's meant to be a disclaimer: Observations are subjective by nature. They do not necessarily apply to all individuals. So, please don't feel offended or flattered. I probably didn't write about you.