Les Aoûtiens

Penhir, Brittany, 2019

Summer’s end is rapidly approaching, and for me it is none too soon. Today, August 15, the French celebrate one last hot blast of unbridled seasonal fun complete with fireworks. Like “Ferragosto” in Italy, the mid-month Assumption holiday is when the country shuts down and the last man standing is finally off on holiday. Tourists replace locals on the street.

French people who take vacation in August as opposed to the Juilletistes of July were traditionally the factory workers, but today it is anyone who prefers the more predictable late season weather. Note that although the French receive five weeks holiday every year, it is not the case that they take it all at one time. On August 15, however, hardly a French person or an open shop is to be found in the city.

And where do they go? Since there have been fires, unbearable heat waves and punishing storms in central and southern France over the past few summers, now Brittany and Normandy on the northern coast are drawing more visitors every year. It’s where we liked to go, but now I am priced out. No doubt it will be the Baltic Sea countries, where I am headed at the end of the week, next to see a summer visitor boom.

My more immediate concern every mid-August is that administrative staffers in the Prefecture are probably also on holiday. My annual visa renewal dossier is languishing there, and I’ll have to undertake the usual stressful effort to draw their attention to it and get my status legalized for another 12 months. Luckily, next year I can apply for a ten year visa and enjoy August 2024 to the fullest.

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Les Nuits d’été

On a Sunday in July in Nice, France, the day begins with a refreshing splash in the Med. Already, the water is warm enough that there is none of that brutal cold water shock as you sink under the surface. But thankfully the temperature remains cool enough to lower an overheated body’s temperature.

Nice, France

As for the temperature of the French body politic, relief is not so easy. The recent nightly riots in response to the police shooting at a traffic stop of Nahel M., a teen of North African descent, have simmered down. Public transport is back up and running through the night. Certain streets are no longer blocked off.

And yet, no one seems to believe the disproportionate police violence towards Arabs and Blacks is over, and therefore the unrest that follows. The police killed 13 people during traffic stops in 2022, an abuse of a 2017 anti-terrorism law allowing police to shoot at vehicles. Poverty and discrimination in the housing estates outside of Paris persist, fomenting anti-establishment feelings.

Beheadings, mass shootings and a murderous truck plowing through a Bastille Day fireworks celebration: these attacks committed in recent years by radicalized Muslim men of African and North African descent remain close to people’s minds. A sad and dangerous equating of Muslims and terror, as Americans saw occur post-9/11, lingers.

The polarization plaguing US society is raising its ugly head here. Anti-immigrant extreme right groups have raised more than one million euro for the legal defense of the policeman who killed Nahel. One hears comments on Nahel’s past brushes with the police and his dangerous driving in a stolen Mercedes at the time of the shooting, as if to excuse the police over-reaction. Anti-immigrant language has been tossed around, ignoring the fact that Nahel and his peers are French. Sound familiar?

Unlike the US, France officially does not gather race-based data on its population. The reluctance stems in part from the round-up of Jews during WWII and fear that the data could be misused by bigots in the future. But France was not the multicultural country shortly after the war that it is now. Some authoritative voices are suggesting a change to the color blind policy to inform serious anti-discrimination measures.

It is distressing that no one in power, including President Macron, are treating the matter with urgency, casting blame on social media instead. “Liberté, égalité et fraternité”, the noble ideals of the French republic, are being put to the test.

On Saturday, an unapproved march took place in Paris to commemorate the 2016 death in police custody of a man of West African descent. A skirmish ensued, during which the dead man’s brother was hurt and his sister arrested. With some luck and effort, heads will stay cool this summer.

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En Albanie

Shiqpëria (the “q” is silent) is the ancient name for Albania, a Republic since 1993. Before that, it was a brutal, feudal Communist dictatorship, before that a pawn between European powers who dismembered it, before that a colony of the Ottoman Empire and before that the home of Illyrian tribes who were crushed by the Romans. Most Americans seem never to have heard of it. Most people probably can’t place it on a map.

However, since becoming a Republic, Albania has been written about as the last country where one can see a country in a pure Mediterranean state. It is a claim I’ve taken to heart since the 1990s. Finally, I made a visit earlier this month, focusing on the north.

It was a delightful experience, despite the obvious fact that only a bit of old Albania is visible. The new nation is rapidly becoming well-integrated into the global economy and its concomitant prosperity. Tourists are flooding in.

Plenty of vestiges of traditional life remain, however, even in Tirana. Streets are lined with fig, magnolia, linden, balsam and pomegranate trees from which natural products are made. Vendors sell flowers, fresh herbs, mountain tea, and knitted socks on street corners across from Karl Lagerfeld and Max Mara. On a one and a half hour walk from dictator Enver Hoxha’s former bunker (he was paranoid) through ungentrified neighborhoods, I even walked a few unpaved roads. There, the wonderful vitality of local people going about their daily errands was infectious. Humans behaving like humans! Men smoking over espresso at cafés, garrulous women at butcher and cheese shops, grease covered men repairing bicycles, people snacking on byrek.

In contrast, skyscrapers and construction cranes are everywhere in the center, as well as road signs advertising soon-to-be-built luxury condos. Sigh. There goes the neighborhood.

Outside Tirana rural tradition is more intact.

Shepherdess, Albania

That won’t be for long, however. The rugged, pristine hiker’s paradise of the Accursed Mountains is being developed for tourism. I did not go south or along the Adriatic coast but I assume the same sort of plans are underway there.

Theth, in northern Albania

It was too much to expect that a country emerging from brutal oppression and enforced insularity wouldn’t rush headlong into the future. Bless them, Albanians want economic security and opportunity like the rest of us. As part of a global, climate and equality-aware culture, Albanian youth might demand a more sustainable path. If they stick around.

Many if not most Albanians still want to emigrate. Some blood feuds continue in the deep North. Tensions with Serbs over Kosovo simmer. Corruption by former reconstituted Communists who remain in power is a given. The country needs help to develop safely. It’s my hope Albania gets it. The people are friendly, the food is delicious and healthy, it has plenty of natural beauty and it is a safe country for visitors (the only police I saw were directing traffic in Tirana). I can’t wait to return.

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La climatisation

Finally, I broke down and installed central air conditioning in my rental apartment. It has become indispensable. The landlord didn’t contribute one lousy centime, but after the torturous summer of 2022 I could not face 2023 without help to get me through it. This one is predicted to be worse, and longer, because of La Niña and general weather trends. So I have done what I can to be somewhat ready. The air con is in just one room and that’s where I will be confined when I am not escaping heat and humidity in cooler geographies.

The only way to countenance the cost is to think of it amortizing over five years. That means I won’t be moving from this apartment come hell or high water (we have a long-running drought so hell will arrive first). In a way, that takes the pressure off the decision “to stay, or not to stay.”

Speaking of hell, the water shortage in southwest France is so bad that firefighters had to use sea water to put out the first “incendies” of the fire season, which like everywhere else has been arriving earlier and earlier. (There are fires in the Urals and Siberia already, by the way.) The Sahara will, sometime after I am gone, reach here. We already have the climate hospitable to dengue and chikungunya.

The good news is that I will spend almost half of this summer elsewhere, in the mountains of Italy, in a small town in Ireland and on a lighting visit to Poland and Latvia. That’s not something I will be able to do with each passing year. As I said, good investment.

Prayer for Water, drypoint by Emanuel Ranny
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One year later

David’s tennis shoes

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