The purpose of travelling is, at best, to measure the extent of cultural differences. An exercise mostly practiced during trivial activities, such as shopping at the supermarket.
Cuando Gabriel García Marquez, decidió despedirse de la vida pública a raiz de su enfermedad, lo hizo a través de una carta ,que sus amigos hicieron circular por internet, y en 2011, a través de uno de ellos la recibí. Es un Homenaje a quien me conmovió a través de sus obras.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez' Final Farewell*Gerardo Barba
NOTE: The words in this presentation were not written by Marquez. The poem turned out to be the work of an obscure Mexican ventriloquist named Johnny Welch. Welch had written the poem for his puppet sidekick "Mofles," but somehow his name had been replaced by the name of the Nobel Prize winning author. The poem is titled "The Puppet".
Mr. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, great Latin American writer has said goodbye to the public life due to complications in his health: lymphatic cancer. He has sent a letter to his friends and thanks to the Internet we are all able to share it
Cuando Gabriel García Marquez, decidió despedirse de la vida pública a raiz de su enfermedad, lo hizo a través de una carta ,que sus amigos hicieron circular por internet, y en 2011, a través de uno de ellos la recibí. Es un Homenaje a quien me conmovió a través de sus obras.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez' Final Farewell*Gerardo Barba
NOTE: The words in this presentation were not written by Marquez. The poem turned out to be the work of an obscure Mexican ventriloquist named Johnny Welch. Welch had written the poem for his puppet sidekick "Mofles," but somehow his name had been replaced by the name of the Nobel Prize winning author. The poem is titled "The Puppet".
Mr. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, great Latin American writer has said goodbye to the public life due to complications in his health: lymphatic cancer. He has sent a letter to his friends and thanks to the Internet we are all able to share it
Barbara Ehrenreich, Serving in Florida” Picture a fat .docxtarifarmarie
Barbara Ehrenreich, “Serving in Florida”
Picture a fat person's hell, and I don't mean a place with no food. Instead
there is everything you might eat if eating had no bodily consequences -
cheese fries, chicken-fried steaks, fudge-laden desserts - only here every
bite must be paid for, one way or another, in human discomfort. The
kitchen is a cavern, a stomach leading to the lower intestine that is the
garbage and dishwashing area, from which issue bizarre smells combining
the edible and the offal: creamy carrion, pizza barf, and that unique and
enigmatic Jerry's scent - citrus fart. The floor is slick with spills, forcing us
to walk through the kitchen with tiny steps, like Susan McDougal in leg
irons. Sinks everywhere are clogged with scraps of lettuce, decomposing
lemon wedges, waterlogged toast crusts. Put your hand down on any
counter and you risk being stuck to it by the film of ancient syrup spills,
and this is unfortunate, because hands are utensils here, used for scooping
up lettuce onto salad plates, lifting out pie slices, and even moving hash
browns from one plate to another. The regulation poster in the single
unisex restroom admonishes us to wash our hands thoroughly and even
offers instructions for doing so, but there is always some vital substance
missing - soap, paper towels, toilet paper - and I never find all three at
once. You learn to stuff your pockets with napkins before going in there,
and too bad about the customers, who must eat, though they don't realize
this, almost literally out of our hands.
The break room typifies the whole situation: there is none, because there
are no breaks at Jerry's. For six to eight hours in a row, you never sit except
to pee. Actually, there are three folding chairs at a table immediately
adjacent to the bathroom, but hardly anyone ever sits here, in the very
rectum of the gastro-architectural system. Rather, the function of the
peritoilet area is to house the ashtrays in which servers and dishwashers
leave their cigarettes burning at all times, like votive candles, so that they
don't have to waste time lighting up again when they dash back for a puff.
Almost everyone smokes as if his or her pulmonary well-being depended
on it - the multinational melange of cooks, the Czech dishwashers, the
servers, who are all American natives - creating an atmosphere in which
oxygen is only an occasional pollutant. My first morning at Jerry's, when
the hypoglycemic shakes set in, I complain to one of my fellow servers that
I don't understand how she can go so long without food. "Well, I don't
understand how you can go so long without a cigarette," she responds in a
tone of reproach - because work is what you do for others; smoking is what
you do for yourself. I don't know why the antismoking crusaders have
never grasped the element of defiant self-nurturance that makes the habit
so endearing to its victims - as if, in the American workplace, the only
thing pe.
1
THE NEW SLAVERY
THE FRENCH COUNTRYSIDE IN SUMMER lives up to its reputation. As we sit out
doors in little village about one hundred miles from Paris, the breeze
brings us the scent of apples from the orchard next door. I have come
here to meet Seba, a newly freed slave. She is a handsome and ani
mated young woman of twenty-two, but as she tells me her story she
draws into herself, smoking furiously, trembling, and then the tears
come.
I was raised by my grandmother in Mali, and when I was still a little
girl a woman my family knew came and asked her if she could take me
to Paris to care for her children, She told my grandmother that she would
put me in school and that I would learn French. But when I came to Paris
I was not sent to school, I had to work every day. In their house I did all
the work; I cleaned the house, cooked the meals, cared for the children,
and washed and fed the baby. Every day I started work before 7 A.M. and
finished about I I P.M.; I never had a day off My mistress did nothing;
she slept late and then watched television or went out.
One day I told her that I wanted to go to school. She replied that she
had not brought me to France to go to school but to take care of her chil
dren. I was so tired and run-down. I had problems with my teeth; some
times my cheek would swell and the pain would be terrible. Sometimes
0
2 / THE NEW SLAVERY
J had stomachaches, but when I was ill I still had to work. Sometimes
when I was in pain I would cry, but my mistress would shout at me.
I slept on the floor in one of the children� bedrooms; my food was their
leftovers. I was not allowed to take food from the refrigerator like the
children. IfI took food she would beat me. She often beat me. She would
slap me all the time. She beat me with the broom, with kitchen tools,
or whipped me with electric cable. Sometimes I would bleed; I still have
marks on my body.
Once in 1992 I was late going to get the children from school; my mis
tress and her husband were furious with me and beat and then threw me
out on the street. I had nowhere to go; I didn't understand anything, and
I wandered on the streets. After some time her husband found me and took
me back to their house. There they stripped me naked, tied my hands be
hind my back, and began to whip me with a wire attached to a broomstick.
Both of them were beating me at the same time. I was bleeding a lot and
screaming, but they continued to beat me. Then she rubbed chili pepper
into my wounds and stuck it in my vagina. I lost consciousness.
Sometime later.one of the children came and untied me. I lay on the
floor where they had left me for several days. The pain was terrible but
no one treated my wounds. When I was able to stand I had to start work
again, but after this I was always locked in the apartment. They contin
ued to beat me.
Seba was finally freed when a neighbor, after hearing the sounds
of abuse and beating, managed to t ...
1 THE NEW SLAVERY THE FRENCH COUNTRYSIDE IN SUMMER livAbbyWhyte974
1
THE NEW SLAVERY
THE FRENCH COUNTRYSIDE IN SUMMER lives up to its reputation. As we sit out
doors in little village about one hundred miles from Paris, the breeze
brings us the scent of apples from the orchard next door. I have come
here to meet Seba, a newly freed slave. She is a handsome and ani
mated young woman of twenty-two, but as she tells me her story she
draws into herself, smoking furiously, trembling, and then the tears
come.
I was raised by my grandmother in Mali, and when I was still a little
girl a woman my family knew came and asked her if she could take me
to Paris to care for her children, She told my grandmother that she would
put me in school and that I would learn French. But when I came to Paris
I was not sent to school, I had to work every day. In their house I did all
the work; I cleaned the house, cooked the meals, cared for the children,
and washed and fed the baby. Every day I started work before 7 A.M. and
finished about I I P.M.; I never had a day off My mistress did nothing;
she slept late and then watched television or went out.
One day I told her that I wanted to go to school. She replied that she
had not brought me to France to go to school but to take care of her chil
dren. I was so tired and run-down. I had problems with my teeth; some
times my cheek would swell and the pain would be terrible. Sometimes
0
2 / THE NEW SLAVERY
J had stomachaches, but when I was ill I still had to work. Sometimes
when I was in pain I would cry, but my mistress would shout at me.
I slept on the floor in one of the children� bedrooms; my food was their
leftovers. I was not allowed to take food from the refrigerator like the
children. IfI took food she would beat me. She often beat me. She would
slap me all the time. She beat me with the broom, with kitchen tools,
or whipped me with electric cable. Sometimes I would bleed; I still have
marks on my body.
Once in 1992 I was late going to get the children from school; my mis
tress and her husband were furious with me and beat and then threw me
out on the street. I had nowhere to go; I didn't understand anything, and
I wandered on the streets. After some time her husband found me and took
me back to their house. There they stripped me naked, tied my hands be
hind my back, and began to whip me with a wire attached to a broomstick.
Both of them were beating me at the same time. I was bleeding a lot and
screaming, but they continued to beat me. Then she rubbed chili pepper
into my wounds and stuck it in my vagina. I lost consciousness.
Sometime later.one of the children came and untied me. I lay on the
floor where they had left me for several days. The pain was terrible but
no one treated my wounds. When I was able to stand I had to start work
again, but after this I was always locked in the apartment. They contin
ued to beat me.
Seba was finally freed when a neighbor, after hearing the sounds
of abuse and beating, managed to t ...
A&P by John Updike In walks these three girls in nothing but b.docxbartholomeocoombs
A&P
by John Updike
In walks these three girls in nothing but bathing suits. I'm in the third check-out slot, with my back to the door, so I don't see them until they're over by the bread. The one that caught my eye first was the one in the plaid green two-piece. She was a chunky kid, with a good tan and a sweet broad soft-looking can with those two crescents of white just under it, where the sun never seems to hit, at the top of the backs of her legs. I stood there with my hand on a box of HiHo crackers trying to remember if I rang it up or not. I ring it up again and the customer starts giving me hell. She's one of these cash-register-watchers, a witch about fifty with rouge on her cheekbones and no eyebrows, and I know it made her day to trip me up. She'd been watching cash registers forty years and probably never seen a mistake before.
By the time I got her feathers smoothed and her goodies into a bag -- she gives me a little snort in passing, if she'd been born at the right time they would have burned her over in Salem -- by the time I get her on her way the girls had circled around the bread and were coming back, without a pushcart, back my way along the counters, in the aisle between the check-outs and the Special bins. They didn't even have shoes on. There was this chunky one, with the two-piece -- it was bright green and the seams on the bra were still sharp and her belly was still pretty pale so I guessed she just got it (the suit) -- there was this one, with one of those chubby berry-faces, the lips all bunched together under her nose, this one, and a tall one, with black hair that hadn't quite frizzed right, and one of these sunburns right across under the eyes, and a chin that was too long -- you know, the kind of girl other girls think is very "striking" and "attractive" but never quite makes it, as they very well know, which is why they like her so much -- and then the third one, that wasn't quite so tall. She was the queen. She kind of led them, the other two peeking around and making their shoulders round. She didn't look around, not this queen, she just walked straight on slowly, on these long white prima donna legs. She came down a little hard on her heels, as if she didn't walk in her bare feet that much, putting down her heels and then letting the weight move along to her toes as if she was testing the floor with every step, putting a little deliberate extra action into it. You never know for sure how girls' minds work (do you really think it's a mind in there or just a little buzz like a bee in a glass jar?) but you got the idea she had talked the other two into coming in here with her, and now she was showing them how to do it, walk slow and hold yourself straight.
She had on a kind of dirty-pink - - beige maybe, I don't know -- bathing suit with a little nubble all over it and, what got me, the straps were down. They were off her shoulders looped loose around the cool tops of her arms, and I guess as a result the .
A&P by john updikeIn walks these three girls in nothing but ba.docxransayo
A&P
by john updike
In walks these three girls in nothing but bathing suits. I'm in the third check-out slot, with my back to the door, so I don't see them until they're over by the bread. The one that caught my eye first was the one in the plaid green two-piece. She was a chunky kid, with a good tan and a sweet broad soft-looking can with those two crescents of white just under it, where the sun never seems to hit, at the top of the backs of her legs. I stood there with my hand on a box of HiHo crackers trying to remember if I rang it up or not. I ring it up again and the customer starts giving me hell. She's one of these cash-register-watchers, a witch about fifty with rouge on her cheekbones and no eyebrows, and I knowit made her day to trip me up. She'd been watching cash registers forty years and probably never seen a mistake before.
By the time I got her feathers smoothed and her goodies into a bag -- she gives me alittle snort in passing, if she'd been born at the right time they would have burned her over in Salem -- by the time I get her on her way the girls had circled around the bread and were coming back, without a pushcart, back my way along the counters, in the aisle between the check-outs and the Special bins. They didn't even have shoes on. There was this chunky one, with the two-piece -- it was bright green and the seams on the bra were still sharp and her belly was still pretty pale so I guessed she just got it (the suit) -- there was this one, with one of those chubby berry-faces, the lips all bunched together under her nose, this one, and a tall one, with black hair that hadn't quite frizzed right, and one of these sunburns right across under the eyes, and a chin that was too long -- you know, the kind of girl other girls think is very "striking" and "attractive" but never quite makes it, as they very well know, which is why they like her so much -- and then the third one, that wasn't quite so tall. She was the queen. She kind of led them, the other two peeking around and making their shoulders round. She didn't look around, not this queen, she just walked straight on slowly, on these long white prima donna legs. She came down a little hard on her heels, as if she didn't walk in her bare feet that much, putting down her heels and then letting the weight move along to her toes as if she was testing the floor with every step, putting a little deliberate extra action into it. You never know for sure how girls' minds work (do you really think it's a mind in there or just a little buzz like a bee in a glassjar?) but you got the idea she had talked the other two into coming in here with her, and now she was showing them how to do it, walk slow and hold yourself straight.
She had on a kind of dirty-pink - - beige maybe, I don't know -- bathing suit with a little nubble all over it and, what got me, the straps were down. They were off her shoulders looped loose around the cool tops of her arms, and I guess as a result the suit had.
A&P by john updikeIn walks these three girls in nothing but ba.docxannetnash8266
A&P
by john updike
In walks these three girls in nothing but bathing suits. I'm in the third check-out slot, with my back to the door, so I don't see them until they're over by the bread. The one that caught my eye first was the one in the plaid green two-piece. She was a chunky kid, with a good tan and a sweet broad soft-looking can with those two crescents of white just under it, where the sun never seems to hit, at the top of the backs of her legs. I stood there with my hand on a box of HiHo crackers trying to remember if I rang it up or not. I ring it up again and the customer starts giving me hell. She's one of these cash-register-watchers, a witch about fifty with rouge on her cheekbones and no eyebrows, and I knowit made her day to trip me up. She'd been watching cash registers forty years and probably never seen a mistake before.
By the time I got her feathers smoothed and her goodies into a bag -- she gives me alittle snort in passing, if she'd been born at the right time they would have burned her over in Salem -- by the time I get her on her way the girls had circled around the bread and were coming back, without a pushcart, back my way along the counters, in the aisle between the check-outs and the Special bins. They didn't even have shoes on. There was this chunky one, with the two-piece -- it was bright green and the seams on the bra were still sharp and her belly was still pretty pale so I guessed she just got it (the suit) -- there was this one, with one of those chubby berry-faces, the lips all bunched together under her nose, this one, and a tall one, with black hair that hadn't quite frizzed right, and one of these sunburns right across under the eyes, and a chin that was too long -- you know, the kind of girl other girls think is very "striking" and "attractive" but never quite makes it, as they very well know, which is why they like her so much -- and then the third one, that wasn't quite so tall. She was the queen. She kind of led them, the other two peeking around and making their shoulders round. She didn't look around, not this queen, she just walked straight on slowly, on these long white prima donna legs. She came down a little hard on her heels, as if she didn't walk in her bare feet that much, putting down her heels and then letting the weight move along to her toes as if she was testing the floor with every step, putting a little deliberate extra action into it. You never know for sure how girls' minds work (do you really think it's a mind in there or just a little buzz like a bee in a glassjar?) but you got the idea she had talked the other two into coming in here with her, and now she was showing them how to do it, walk slow and hold yourself straight.
She had on a kind of dirty-pink - - beige maybe, I don't know -- bathing suit with a little nubble all over it and, what got me, the straps were down. They were off her shoulders looped loose around the cool tops of her arms, and I guess as a result the suit had.
The Côte d’Azur is beautiful in September – even though her beaches suffer from human disrespect. A look back at an otherwise very pleasant stay in Provence.
Meine neue Kolumne: «Strandpflege an der Côte d’Azur»
Die Côte d’ Azur ist im September am schönsten – aber auch ihre Strände leiden unter der Rücksichtslosigkeit der Menschen. Das regt mich auf, ich muss etwas tun.
Je sais, on me prend pour une folle, mais je ne peux pas m’en empêcher. Que ce soit sur la côte de Malabar ou au bord du golfe de Saint-Tropez, je ramasse les déchets échoués sur le sable.
Eine neue Kolumne, inspiriert vom griechischen Sommer.
Es ist leicht, unter blühenden Lorbeerbäumen und blauem Himmel den Alltag auf Distanz zu halten. Obwohl...
Une nouvelle chronique inspirée par l'été grec.
Facile lorsque le ciel est bleu, que l'on est allongée sous un parasol, sous des lauriers en fleurs, de mettre son quotidien à distance. Quoique…
Summer in the countryside may seem idyllic, but it can be punctuated by drama. Here is an account of a dog’s trials and tribulations in the beautiful Dordogne Valley...
La vie à la campagne peut paraître idyllique, surtout à la belle saison, mais elle peut être émaillée de drames. Récit d’un drame canin survenu dans la belle vallée de la Dordogne…
Sometimes the words line up on the page as if by automatism. There follows a relief. These last months, nothing. A few laborious lines, an empty mind. The feeling of being part of a world that turns less and less round, that has become so incomprehensible that to be interested in it is to get lost in it. A world that lacks atrociously of humanity.
"Humanity, who are you? Human nature and empathy"Sylvie Castagné
Sometimes the words line up on the page as if by automatism. There follows a relief. These last months, nothing. A few laborious lines, an empty mind. The feeling of being part of a world that turns less and less round, that has become so incomprehensible that to be interested in it is to get lost in it. A world that lacks atrociously of humanity.
«L'humanité devenue – Nature humaine et empathie»Sylvie Castagné
Il m'arrive que les mots s'alignent sur la page comme par automatisme. Il s'ensuit une délivrance. Ces derniers mois, rien. Quelques lignes laborieuses, un esprit vide. Le sentiment de faire partie d'un monde qui tourne de moins en moins rond, devenu si incompréhensible que s'y intéresser c'est s'y perdre. Un monde qui manque atrocement d'humanité.
Dans cette chronique, je reviens sur la belle île grecque d'Hydra, où j'ai passé quelques jours de rêve avec ma fille. Seul bémol: les bouteilles plastique abandonnées au bord du chemin et autres déchets flottant sur les eaux turquoise.
"Summer holidays are over – Time to sort out, throw away, give away"Sylvie Castagné
My newest column in English: Back from vacation, I tidy up before starting work again. As I do so, thoughts about the present, the past and the future come to me.
«Préparer la rentrée – je trie, je jette, je donne»Sylvie Castagné
Pour moi, les vacances sont déjà terminées. Enfermée chez moi pour cause de fortes chaleurs dehors, j'en profite pour ranger, faire le tri… Passer ainsi en revue les choses accumulées dans mes tiroirs et placards me fait réfléchir.
From Stress to Success How Oakland's Corporate Wellness Programs are Cultivat...Kitchen on Fire
Discover how Oakland's innovative corporate wellness initiatives are transforming workplace culture, nurturing the well-being of employees, and fostering a thriving environment. From comprehensive mental health support to flexible work arrangements and holistic wellness workshops, these programs are empowering individuals to navigate stress effectively, leading to increased productivity, satisfaction, and overall success.
Care Instructions for Activewear & Swim Suits.pdfsundazesurf80
SunDaze Surf offers top swimwear tips: choose high-quality, UV-protective fabrics to shield your skin. Opt for secure fits that withstand waves and active movement. Bright colors enhance visibility, while adjustable straps ensure comfort. Prioritize styles with good support, like racerbacks or underwire tops, for active beach days. Always rinse swimwear after use to maintain fabric integrity.
La transidentité, un sujet qui fractionne les FrançaisIpsos France
Ipsos, l’une des principales sociétés mondiales d’études de marché dévoile les résultats de son étude Ipsos Global Advisor “Pride 2024”. De ses débuts aux Etats-Unis et désormais dans de très nombreux pays, le mois de juin est traditionnellement consacré aux « Marches des Fiertés » et à des événements festifs autour du concept de Pride. A cette occasion, Ipsos a réalisé une enquête dans vingt-six pays dressant plusieurs constats. Les clivages des opinions entre générations s’accentuent tandis que le soutien à des mesures sociétales et d’inclusion en faveur des LGBT+ notamment transgenres continue de s’effriter.
Have you ever wondered about the lost city of Atlantis and its profound connection to our modern world? Ruth Elisabeth Hancock’s podcast, “Visions of Atlantis,” delves deep into this intriguing topic in a captivating conversation with Michael Le Flem, author of the enlightening book titled “Visions of Atlantis.” This podcast episode offers a thought-provoking blend of historical inquiry, esoteric wisdom, and contemporary reflections. Let’s embark on a journey of discovery as we unpack the mysteries of ancient civilizations and their relevance to our present existence.
MRS PUNE 2024 - WINNER AMRUTHAA UTTAM JAGDHANEDK PAGEANT
Amruthaa Uttam Jagdhane, a stunning woman from Pune, has won the esteemed title of Mrs. India 2024, which is given out by the Dk Exhibition. Her journey to this prestigious accomplishment is a confirmation of her faithful assurance, extraordinary gifts, and profound commitment to enabling women.
Johnny Depp Long Hair: A Signature Look Through the Yearsgreendigital
Johnny Depp, synonymous with eclectic roles and unparalleled acting prowess. has also been a significant figure in fashion and style. Johnny Depp long hair is a distinctive trademark among the various elements that define his unique persona. This article delves into the evolution, impact. and cultural significance of Johnny Depp long hair. exploring how it has contributed to his iconic status.
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Introduction
Johnny Depp is an actor known for his chameleon-like ability to transform into a wide range of characters. from the eccentric Captain Jack Sparrow in "Pirates of the Caribbean" to the introspective Edward Scissorhands. His long hair is one constant throughout his evolving roles and public appearances. Johnny Depp long hair is not a style choice but a significant aspect of his identity. contributing to his allure and mystique. This article explores the journey and significance of Johnny Depp long hair. highlighting how it has become integral to his brand.
The Early Years: A Budding Star with Signature Locks
1980s: The Rise of a Young Heartthrob
Johnny Depp's journey in Hollywood began in the 1980s. with his breakout role in the television series "21 Jump Street." During this time, his hair was short, but it was already clear that Depp had a penchant for unique and edgy styles. By the decade's end, Depp started experimenting with longer hair. setting the stage for a lifelong signature.
1990s: From Heartthrob to Icon
The 1990s were transformative for Johnny Depp his career and personal style. Films like "Edward Scissorhands" (1990) and "Benny & Joon" (1993) saw Depp sporting various hair lengths and styles. But, his long, unkempt hair in "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" (1993) began to draw significant attention. This period marked the beginning of Johnny Depp long hair. which became a defining feature of his image.
The Iconic Roles: Hair as a Character Element
Edward Scissorhands (1990)
In "Edward Scissorhands," Johnny Depp's character had a wild and mane that complemented his ethereal and misunderstood persona. This role showcased how long hair Johnny Depp could enhance a character's depth and mystery.
Captain Jack Sparrow: The Pirate with Flowing Locks
One of Johnny Depp's iconic roles is Captain Jack Sparrow from the "Pirates of the Caribbean" series. Sparrow's long, dreadlocked hair symbolised his rebellious and unpredictable nature. The character's look, complete with beads and trinkets woven into his hair. was a collaboration between Depp and the film's costume designers. This style became iconic and influenced fashion trends and Halloween costumes worldwide.
Other Memorable Characters
Depp's long hair has also been featured in other roles, such as Ichabod Crane in "Sleepy Hollow" (1999). and Roux in "Chocolat" (2000). In these films, his hair added a layer of authenticity and depth to his characters. proving that Johnny Depp with long hair is more than a style—it's a storytelling tool.
Off-Screen Influenc
Is your favorite ring slipping and sliding on your finger? You're not alone. Must Read this Guide on What To Do If Your Ring Is Too Big as shared by the experts of Andrews Jewelers.
"At the supermarket in Provence – Intimate Confessions at the Deli Counter"
1. AT THE SUPERMARKET IN PROVENCE
Intimate Confessions at the Deli Counter
The purpose of travelling is, at best, tomeasure the extent
of cultural differences. Anexercise mostly practicedduring
trivial activities, suchas shopping at the supermarket.
CUSTOMERS IN
DISPERSED ORDER
A single employee, masked, with a worried look, slightly elevated behind
the ten-meter-longL-shapedcounterwhere a dozen customersin scattered
order are trying to establisheye contact with her, one handresting ontheir
shoppingcart.
Behind the quichesand pies, she doesn’tcare to find out. She heads towards
the paunchy manin the pink Lacoste who, I’msure, arrived after us. Besides,
he didn’ttake a numberfrom the ticket machine. He doesn’tcare, looks
straightahead flagrantly disregarding other customers arrived before him.
"I’dlove to try the summertruffle pâté back there." I turn around. It’sthe
dark-eyedblondeto my right. Sheclutches her numberbetween her thumb
andforefinger: 67. And there she goes!
2. MY CALF AND
MY MOTHER
In abouttenminutes, I learn thatshe haslost her sense of smell. Covid but
notonly. When she got infected, she was already undergoingtreatment
because she hadpolypsin her nose. I act interested. "I don’tmindwaiting,
althoughI didpull my calf muscle. I still went to work. Eight hourson my feet
in the bakery. Well, if I wear heels, it’s okay, it’sbearable." I look down and
see that she is, indeed, wearing white patent leather bootswith square toes
clashing with her light floral cottondress.
"Fortunately, thelady who takes care of my mothergave me a cream that
relieves my pain. The one whocomes in the evening, becauseit takesa lot of
people to take care of her, to wash her, to dothe household... They come
andgo all day long." I learn againthat her 91-year-oldmotherstilllives at
home. Sure, she’shadAlzheimer’s for ten years, butthe disease progresses
slowly. "It’snotlike her neighborColette, who is not yet 60. Her husbandhad
to puther in a specialized institution. He couldn’thandleit anymore."
The deli employee movedtothe other end of the refrigerated counter to
serve a retired couple.
COVID AND
ALZHEIMER
"Andyour mom, shedidn’tcatch Covid?" This gets the conversationgoing
again. "No, she didn’tget it, butmy husbanddid. He’salready handicapped
since his car accident. He was in the hospitalfor five days."
She continues, "My mother’sweak pointis her intestines, if you see what I
mean...". Yes, I see very well what youmean. "Fortunately, my father takes
care of changingher diapers several timesa day." Her disabled, covid
husband, herstrainedcalf and the inability of her nose to appreciate scents
andsmells, her aging parentsand her daysspentselling baguettes and
fougasses. I tell myself I am lucky.
I wave my crumpled piece of paper with the number66 at the employee,
who is now indolently scanningthe customersscattered from one end of the
counter tothe other. As I doso, I think tomyself that sucha conversation
with a stranger at the deli counterof a supermarketwouldbe unimaginable
at my Migros. Customerswouldstandsilently in line and respect
social distancing. The only words uttered (by an oldwoman or by a Swiss
strictly abidingby the rules of etiquette) in this situationin Switzerland, I
imagine, wouldbe addressedtothe man in the pink Lacoste: "Entschuldigung,
welli i Nummerehänd Sie?"*
* Whatnumberdo youhave?
Sylvie Castagné
Saint-Tropez, September2021