La politique: politics
La guerre: war
As I have been in Europe for over 7 months, I have had a chance to interact with a lot of different people, from different nationalities, different races, different religions. One thing is almost always for sure is that because I am American, everyone wants to discuss the tough stuff. That is, the stuff that I normally avoid discussion about; politics, Bush, Obama, the war. Now, I can understand what America is an easy target. We are the richest, most powerful country (right now)…and this is not me bragging about my country, these are the facts. It is always easy to criticize the top. But dang, I really feel like when I get this criticism or “discussion” about what is going on in America, and especially with respect to the war, I am supposed to defend the country—its as many of the people (especially the French) are asking me to defend the government’s decisions. I’m just Michelle Majerle, 23 year old from Kansas; I am not the President, Congress, the 300 million-person population of America…
The French specifically love to discuss politics. It’s not a taboo subject, on the contrary, a subject you are likely to broach upon first meeting someone. For example, on my second day of work at my internship, I had to drive 2 hours to our factory with my boss, and in that conversation he asked me what I thought about Bush, Obama, the war, healthcare; what my family thought about all of the above, and if I thought America was protectionist. OK buddy, we just met. And then there is one of the other interns at work who enjoys pestering me everyday with questions like “Is Iraq going to be the 51st state?” Politics is just not personal information here, as in the U.S. I think in the U.S. we do not discuss these subjects so in depth for fear of offending people. Maybe we’re too sensitive? Perhaps it’s a good thing to be more open about it; all the questioning has made me realize just how little I know about U.S. politics and the war we find ourselves in. So is it that I feel uncomfortable discussing my person political views, or am I just plain uninformed?
As I start to think about it more, this whole fiasco with the building of a mosque in New York at Ground Zero comes to mind. Apparently everyone is getting all fired up about it, with such comments like, “We cannot let them win!” Who is them? Have I been gone so long that the “War on Terror” has now become the “War on Islam?” A mosque is like a church, a temple; a building where people go to pray. A mosque has nothing to do with “terrorists.” I may not know everything about the political environment, but I do know that these people are more uninformed than I am.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Customer Service? I don't think so.
Today's French experience:
Last Saturday, I bought two ethernet cables to use in our apartment (since we finally got internet after only 7 short months!). We ended up being able to set up the WiFi, so the cables were not necessary. As the packaging was undisturbed, I had the receipt in tact, and it had only been 3 days since I purchased the products, I assumed the return process would be quick and simple. The ideas "quick" and "simple" do not exist alone in France, let alone conjointly, so I am not sure what I was thinking!
I walked down to the "mall" which holds the store FNAC, a general equivalent to what we know as Best Buy at home. I walk in, looking for your typical customer service desk that handles returns. I approach a counter that ressembles what I know to be a customer service desk, but when I explained to the employee that I wanted to return the items, he told me he does not handle that at his counter. He pointed me to the security guard up front, and told me to tell them I needed to return something, and they would write me a ticket. OK. So I go to the front of the store and the security guard writes me a ticket with my name and the product information on it. THEN, she tells me to take it to a salesperson on the floor. OK. So I go up to a salesperson on the floor and tell him I am trying to return something. He determines that these cables are not in his department and refers me to another salesperson. I wait for a few minutes until this other salesperson returns, and tell her I would like to return something, and she types some stuff into her computer and prints off another ticket. Then she proceeds to tell me that I need to take the ticket to the cashier counter. OK. The cashier counter has a long zig-zag line, kind of like the lines you wait in at amusement parks to go on the really cool rollarcoasters. That's annoying.
As I was waiting in line I pondered striking up a conversation with the young guy in front me who was buying some vampire romance/horror flick--looked like a French "Twilight" if you ask me. Then I saw the man-sac and I just stayed quiet. The French aren't really keen on talking to strangers anyway.
Finally, I got to the register and received my 27.63 euro credit. It only took talking to 5 employees to get!
Last Saturday, I bought two ethernet cables to use in our apartment (since we finally got internet after only 7 short months!). We ended up being able to set up the WiFi, so the cables were not necessary. As the packaging was undisturbed, I had the receipt in tact, and it had only been 3 days since I purchased the products, I assumed the return process would be quick and simple. The ideas "quick" and "simple" do not exist alone in France, let alone conjointly, so I am not sure what I was thinking!
I walked down to the "mall" which holds the store FNAC, a general equivalent to what we know as Best Buy at home. I walk in, looking for your typical customer service desk that handles returns. I approach a counter that ressembles what I know to be a customer service desk, but when I explained to the employee that I wanted to return the items, he told me he does not handle that at his counter. He pointed me to the security guard up front, and told me to tell them I needed to return something, and they would write me a ticket. OK. So I go to the front of the store and the security guard writes me a ticket with my name and the product information on it. THEN, she tells me to take it to a salesperson on the floor. OK. So I go up to a salesperson on the floor and tell him I am trying to return something. He determines that these cables are not in his department and refers me to another salesperson. I wait for a few minutes until this other salesperson returns, and tell her I would like to return something, and she types some stuff into her computer and prints off another ticket. Then she proceeds to tell me that I need to take the ticket to the cashier counter. OK. The cashier counter has a long zig-zag line, kind of like the lines you wait in at amusement parks to go on the really cool rollarcoasters. That's annoying.
As I was waiting in line I pondered striking up a conversation with the young guy in front me who was buying some vampire romance/horror flick--looked like a French "Twilight" if you ask me. Then I saw the man-sac and I just stayed quiet. The French aren't really keen on talking to strangers anyway.
Finally, I got to the register and received my 27.63 euro credit. It only took talking to 5 employees to get!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
French (Corporate) Culture
Bonjour: Hello
Ça va?: How are you/how is it going?
Ça va, ça va: (response) it goes
Bon appetit: Eat well (“Bon app” for short)
Bon après-mid: Have a good afternoon (“Bon aprèm” for short)
Bonne soirée: Have a good night (“Bon soir” for short)
A tout à l’heure: See you later (“A tout” for short)
A plus tard: See you later (“A plus” for short)
I have now worked for a little over a month now, enabling me to become a bit acquainted with our office culture. As I have not had too much experience in offices in the States, I have little to compare to but I have found some aspects at work that I think may be different than our culture at home.
First of all, of course there is the difference of language. That comes with the territory, I suppose (no pun intended). I speak mostly French in the office with my co-workers. There is one women who works at my office who is Irish, so I get to sneak in some English with her every once and a while. The office is not very big--only about 15 people at most (with some leaving at the end of the summer), so I have a chance to talk to everybody a bit. However, as we handle a large export market, there remains the rest of the world to speak with. What is, pray tell, the international language of business? That’s right, good ‘ole English. Despite the unfortunate reality that many Americans will only ever learn one language, at least it’s a damn good practical one! We speak English with most of our clients, excluding perhaps Belgium and Luxembourg (French speaking), some of the French-speaking African nations, and some Spanish-speaking nations (as the family that owns the company all speak Spanish as well). The main part of my internship so far is working with the U.S. market, conveniently enough for me I speak good English.
The second thing I want to make mention of is the abundance of pleasantries exchanged throughout the day. I will be one of the first to say that I believe the French in general are much “colder” than we are in America; we who embrace foreigners with welcoming arms into our great melting pot. Yet, the French are all about their gestures and greetings. When I enter the office in the morning, I have to make my rounds to individually say “Bonjour” to everyone who is already there, maybe exchange a few ça va’s here and there. Then I make some coffee and go to my office, and everyone else that comes in after also makes rounds so you get a series of “Bonjours” for the first 15 minutes of so of the morning. If I encounter the President of the company or my boss, they will usually shake my hand. I do not give the kisses (“bises”) to anyone except sometimes the other interns, who are my age—although I feel like I get them whenever they feel like it because it’s not everyday. You’d think that after being here for 7 months I would know when to give/expect kisses, and when not to, but there’s just consistency here. I just don’t pucker my lips until there is a cheek right in front of them in the case of a forward motion being mistaken for a lean-in for the kiss. Miss-firing kisses is just embarrassing.
After morning “Bonjours,” there comes mid-day “Bon appetites” (or “Bon app” if you’re sly) in which you tell everyone between the hours of 12-2pm to have a good lunch even if they are not at the moment eating, even if they have already eaten, or even if they are just walking in the hall. If I leave the office for lunch, I make sure to do rounds again to wish everyone “good eating.” What happens after lunch, perhaps less formal, but there is the “Bon après-midi,” to wish your fellow colleagues a good afternoon. Whereas in English, our “Good Afternoon” I find to be more of a introductory greeting, here it is more of parting greeting-more so as “I hope you have a good afternoon” smooshed into two words or a quick “Bon aprèm.” (I have yet to try the cute shortcuts to these greetings for fear of sounding silly). When the day ends, there are the “Au revoirs” and “Bonne soirees” distributed, again another cycle of rounds to make sure you bid everyone adieu. That means no sneaking out early without everyone knowing—or, if you do without saying goodbye, you will likely be perceived as rude!
Finally, there is the “vous” and “tu” game. The lovely English language is fortunate enough to only use one form of the word “you” to everybody and anybody. In many other languages, however, there are two forms, an informal (tu) and a formal (vous). This complicates things because misuse is considered quite rude. The French are taught how to use these when they are young and learning the language, so I believe it comes naturally to them when to use “vous” and when to use “tu.” For me, however, I’m dropping tu’s when I should be dropping vous’s all the time, and vice versa. I especially had this problem when I started working because most of the people I have been speaking to in French are other students, so I was accustomed “tu.” (and therefore conjugating like so). When you meet someone for the first time, or they an “elder” (whatever that means), or in a position above, you should always use, “vous.” I use tu with anyone about my age or younger. With those you start using “vous” with, you have to wait for them to give you permission to use “tu.” (it’s actually a verb-“tutoyer”). I have had our marketing director tell me I can tutoyer him, an older woman who is probably around 60 tell me I can use “tu,” but I have been warned by my fellow interns to never-ever, not once use “tu” with the three brothers who run the business (despite one of them only being 25 years old). This makes sense; it is similar calling someone Mr./Mrs. instead of their first name—but in English you don’t usually slip their first name by accident as I have been doing with “tu.” Whoops. Oddly enough, however, I call them all by their first names, but use “vous.” Weird.
Ça va?: How are you/how is it going?
Ça va, ça va: (response) it goes
Bon appetit: Eat well (“Bon app” for short)
Bon après-mid: Have a good afternoon (“Bon aprèm” for short)
Bonne soirée: Have a good night (“Bon soir” for short)
A tout à l’heure: See you later (“A tout” for short)
A plus tard: See you later (“A plus” for short)
I have now worked for a little over a month now, enabling me to become a bit acquainted with our office culture. As I have not had too much experience in offices in the States, I have little to compare to but I have found some aspects at work that I think may be different than our culture at home.
First of all, of course there is the difference of language. That comes with the territory, I suppose (no pun intended). I speak mostly French in the office with my co-workers. There is one women who works at my office who is Irish, so I get to sneak in some English with her every once and a while. The office is not very big--only about 15 people at most (with some leaving at the end of the summer), so I have a chance to talk to everybody a bit. However, as we handle a large export market, there remains the rest of the world to speak with. What is, pray tell, the international language of business? That’s right, good ‘ole English. Despite the unfortunate reality that many Americans will only ever learn one language, at least it’s a damn good practical one! We speak English with most of our clients, excluding perhaps Belgium and Luxembourg (French speaking), some of the French-speaking African nations, and some Spanish-speaking nations (as the family that owns the company all speak Spanish as well). The main part of my internship so far is working with the U.S. market, conveniently enough for me I speak good English.
The second thing I want to make mention of is the abundance of pleasantries exchanged throughout the day. I will be one of the first to say that I believe the French in general are much “colder” than we are in America; we who embrace foreigners with welcoming arms into our great melting pot. Yet, the French are all about their gestures and greetings. When I enter the office in the morning, I have to make my rounds to individually say “Bonjour” to everyone who is already there, maybe exchange a few ça va’s here and there. Then I make some coffee and go to my office, and everyone else that comes in after also makes rounds so you get a series of “Bonjours” for the first 15 minutes of so of the morning. If I encounter the President of the company or my boss, they will usually shake my hand. I do not give the kisses (“bises”) to anyone except sometimes the other interns, who are my age—although I feel like I get them whenever they feel like it because it’s not everyday. You’d think that after being here for 7 months I would know when to give/expect kisses, and when not to, but there’s just consistency here. I just don’t pucker my lips until there is a cheek right in front of them in the case of a forward motion being mistaken for a lean-in for the kiss. Miss-firing kisses is just embarrassing.
After morning “Bonjours,” there comes mid-day “Bon appetites” (or “Bon app” if you’re sly) in which you tell everyone between the hours of 12-2pm to have a good lunch even if they are not at the moment eating, even if they have already eaten, or even if they are just walking in the hall. If I leave the office for lunch, I make sure to do rounds again to wish everyone “good eating.” What happens after lunch, perhaps less formal, but there is the “Bon après-midi,” to wish your fellow colleagues a good afternoon. Whereas in English, our “Good Afternoon” I find to be more of a introductory greeting, here it is more of parting greeting-more so as “I hope you have a good afternoon” smooshed into two words or a quick “Bon aprèm.” (I have yet to try the cute shortcuts to these greetings for fear of sounding silly). When the day ends, there are the “Au revoirs” and “Bonne soirees” distributed, again another cycle of rounds to make sure you bid everyone adieu. That means no sneaking out early without everyone knowing—or, if you do without saying goodbye, you will likely be perceived as rude!
Finally, there is the “vous” and “tu” game. The lovely English language is fortunate enough to only use one form of the word “you” to everybody and anybody. In many other languages, however, there are two forms, an informal (tu) and a formal (vous). This complicates things because misuse is considered quite rude. The French are taught how to use these when they are young and learning the language, so I believe it comes naturally to them when to use “vous” and when to use “tu.” For me, however, I’m dropping tu’s when I should be dropping vous’s all the time, and vice versa. I especially had this problem when I started working because most of the people I have been speaking to in French are other students, so I was accustomed “tu.” (and therefore conjugating like so). When you meet someone for the first time, or they an “elder” (whatever that means), or in a position above, you should always use, “vous.” I use tu with anyone about my age or younger. With those you start using “vous” with, you have to wait for them to give you permission to use “tu.” (it’s actually a verb-“tutoyer”). I have had our marketing director tell me I can tutoyer him, an older woman who is probably around 60 tell me I can use “tu,” but I have been warned by my fellow interns to never-ever, not once use “tu” with the three brothers who run the business (despite one of them only being 25 years old). This makes sense; it is similar calling someone Mr./Mrs. instead of their first name—but in English you don’t usually slip their first name by accident as I have been doing with “tu.” Whoops. Oddly enough, however, I call them all by their first names, but use “vous.” Weird.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Fête de la Musique
“Fête:” Party
“Chanter” to sing
“Une Chanson:” a song
Every year in France, on the first day of summer (21st June), there is a huge music festival in every city called, “Fête de la Musique.” It does not matter what day of the week it falls on, or the weather circumstances; it will always be celebrated on the first day of summer. I’m not sure how this tradition started, but it now exists across the whole country. The idea is to celebrate summer by playing and enjoying music all of different genres. This year, the first day of summer happened to fall on a Monday, slightly unfortunate because I had to work the next day so could not stay out grooving all night long. However, I did get a couple of hours taste of the celebrations welcoming in the summer season.
At about 5pm, I could start hearing sounds off in the distance or instruments tuning, speakers being tested, and the carefree attitude of the night was already in the air. Ah, you have to love summertime. There we official lineups set up in the main squares of the town, also accompanied by informal groups set up in front off restaurants and cafés, parked in a corner playing whatever kind of music is theirs. I took a stroll through the main areas, first stopping for a few minutes to admire a blues/jazz group set up near the marché St. Pierre—a mix of old and young men with harmonica, drums, and brass to give the soothing element to the melody. Not but 10 feet away were another group of people literally shaking their booties to some funky tunes. I worked my way down the biggest square in town, Place Jaude, with the streets leading to it lined with vendors selling crepes, cotton candy, beer, and many other delights you could imagine. The first stop in Place Jaude was a turntable set up with two gigantic speakers on both sides, each adorned with a young lady dancing atop. After I could not handle the steady ear-ringing, techno “boom-boom,” I moved down the square to the main stage where I happened to catch the last few songs of a French rap act. While I do enjoy the occasional rap rhymes formed by some American “artists,” I cannot say these guys were really, “my cup ‘o tea.” I gave them a chance for a few songs, and then moved on.
Up the hill I walked to the second largest square, Place de la Victoire, where I found a big crowd surrounding a corner where noise was happening. The noise I found out was a head-banging, screaming-into-the-microphone, black-clad group of young men doing something very bad with what I consider as, “music.” An interesting sight, however, as people of the same genre formed a chain, arms spread over each other’s shoulders of head-banging. After awhile, I think you’d have to get a headache from doing this, “dancing.” On the main stage in Place de la Victoire, where I discovered a fabulous funk-hip hop group from Cincinnati. It was apparent from the few, “Mercis” that they did not speak much French, as well as the fact that all their songs were English. I enjoyed them very much, actually doing a little grooving and swaying myself. During the last song of their gig, they invited up some of the local break dancers who had been bustin’ a move in the front row—three of these boys, maybe 17 or 18 years old came up on stage dressed in the oh-so-not French young hipster baggy jeans and hoodies with flat-billed caps. When they finished up, I wandered over to a pub who had an Irish band tooting out some friendly melodies. About 15 people were in front doing some sort of line dancing that I did not know of, a mix of children, 20-somethings, and older. It was if they were some family-dancing group—quite entertaining to watch. Back in Place de la Victoire, a funk band from England was just revving up, their lead singer and curvy black woman with the greatest spirit you can ask for in a lead-singer. When she was not singing she was dancing all around the stage, she looked like she was having so much fun up there, I could not help but smile. The drummer and the guitar-player were accompanied by a line of additional musicians with a clarinet, saxophone, and trumpet. This was probably my favorite act of the whole evening.
Since it was a “school-night” (do we call that “work-night” now?) I had to head home before all of the festivities were over. On the way back, I caught the sounds of the a few bands along the way, some classic-rock covers and the like.
It was a really neat festival, that brought a lot of people out and about in Clermont. There is something about summer and music that just goes together so well.
“Chanter” to sing
“Une Chanson:” a song
Every year in France, on the first day of summer (21st June), there is a huge music festival in every city called, “Fête de la Musique.” It does not matter what day of the week it falls on, or the weather circumstances; it will always be celebrated on the first day of summer. I’m not sure how this tradition started, but it now exists across the whole country. The idea is to celebrate summer by playing and enjoying music all of different genres. This year, the first day of summer happened to fall on a Monday, slightly unfortunate because I had to work the next day so could not stay out grooving all night long. However, I did get a couple of hours taste of the celebrations welcoming in the summer season.
At about 5pm, I could start hearing sounds off in the distance or instruments tuning, speakers being tested, and the carefree attitude of the night was already in the air. Ah, you have to love summertime. There we official lineups set up in the main squares of the town, also accompanied by informal groups set up in front off restaurants and cafés, parked in a corner playing whatever kind of music is theirs. I took a stroll through the main areas, first stopping for a few minutes to admire a blues/jazz group set up near the marché St. Pierre—a mix of old and young men with harmonica, drums, and brass to give the soothing element to the melody. Not but 10 feet away were another group of people literally shaking their booties to some funky tunes. I worked my way down the biggest square in town, Place Jaude, with the streets leading to it lined with vendors selling crepes, cotton candy, beer, and many other delights you could imagine. The first stop in Place Jaude was a turntable set up with two gigantic speakers on both sides, each adorned with a young lady dancing atop. After I could not handle the steady ear-ringing, techno “boom-boom,” I moved down the square to the main stage where I happened to catch the last few songs of a French rap act. While I do enjoy the occasional rap rhymes formed by some American “artists,” I cannot say these guys were really, “my cup ‘o tea.” I gave them a chance for a few songs, and then moved on.
Up the hill I walked to the second largest square, Place de la Victoire, where I found a big crowd surrounding a corner where noise was happening. The noise I found out was a head-banging, screaming-into-the-microphone, black-clad group of young men doing something very bad with what I consider as, “music.” An interesting sight, however, as people of the same genre formed a chain, arms spread over each other’s shoulders of head-banging. After awhile, I think you’d have to get a headache from doing this, “dancing.” On the main stage in Place de la Victoire, where I discovered a fabulous funk-hip hop group from Cincinnati. It was apparent from the few, “Mercis” that they did not speak much French, as well as the fact that all their songs were English. I enjoyed them very much, actually doing a little grooving and swaying myself. During the last song of their gig, they invited up some of the local break dancers who had been bustin’ a move in the front row—three of these boys, maybe 17 or 18 years old came up on stage dressed in the oh-so-not French young hipster baggy jeans and hoodies with flat-billed caps. When they finished up, I wandered over to a pub who had an Irish band tooting out some friendly melodies. About 15 people were in front doing some sort of line dancing that I did not know of, a mix of children, 20-somethings, and older. It was if they were some family-dancing group—quite entertaining to watch. Back in Place de la Victoire, a funk band from England was just revving up, their lead singer and curvy black woman with the greatest spirit you can ask for in a lead-singer. When she was not singing she was dancing all around the stage, she looked like she was having so much fun up there, I could not help but smile. The drummer and the guitar-player were accompanied by a line of additional musicians with a clarinet, saxophone, and trumpet. This was probably my favorite act of the whole evening.
Since it was a “school-night” (do we call that “work-night” now?) I had to head home before all of the festivities were over. On the way back, I caught the sounds of the a few bands along the way, some classic-rock covers and the like.
It was a really neat festival, that brought a lot of people out and about in Clermont. There is something about summer and music that just goes together so well.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
OFFSIDES!
“Le Coupe du Monde:” World Cup
“Football” Soccer
A couple of weeks ago, I could not have told you what “offsides” meant, or the significance of yellow and red cards, penalty kicks, who Christiano Renaldo was, or any of the like. Now that the World Cup has begun, soccer is in full force all over the world, not excluding Clermont-Ferrand. I have never boasted to be a soccer fan (usually quite the contrary), but with 3 games a day, and little else entertainment, I now often watch a ball get kicked around for 90 minutes at a time.
While soccer has its certain followings in the U.S., it is a huge sport here in Europe. (They don’t know about baseball or basketball!). Since the World Cup has started, I have learned the essential rules of the game and discovered how the tournament works: 8 groups of 4 teams each play each other, the 2 top teams from each group go on to a 16 team single-elimination tournament. I have also learned who I am supposed to cheer for (Obviously go U.S.A!, Allez la France, boo England, and anyone else playing against those teams). However, I think the most important tidbit about soccer that I have come across in the last 2 weeks is the article I found online, “The Top 15 Sexiest Soccer Players in the World Cup.” Now, before each game, I check my list to see whom I should be watching on the field. Soccer players don’t wear masks or helmets, so it’s easy to get a good look at the boys too. Sweet deal!
I need to go look to see who’s playing today…
“Football” Soccer
A couple of weeks ago, I could not have told you what “offsides” meant, or the significance of yellow and red cards, penalty kicks, who Christiano Renaldo was, or any of the like. Now that the World Cup has begun, soccer is in full force all over the world, not excluding Clermont-Ferrand. I have never boasted to be a soccer fan (usually quite the contrary), but with 3 games a day, and little else entertainment, I now often watch a ball get kicked around for 90 minutes at a time.
While soccer has its certain followings in the U.S., it is a huge sport here in Europe. (They don’t know about baseball or basketball!). Since the World Cup has started, I have learned the essential rules of the game and discovered how the tournament works: 8 groups of 4 teams each play each other, the 2 top teams from each group go on to a 16 team single-elimination tournament. I have also learned who I am supposed to cheer for (Obviously go U.S.A!, Allez la France, boo England, and anyone else playing against those teams). However, I think the most important tidbit about soccer that I have come across in the last 2 weeks is the article I found online, “The Top 15 Sexiest Soccer Players in the World Cup.” Now, before each game, I check my list to see whom I should be watching on the field. Soccer players don’t wear masks or helmets, so it’s easy to get a good look at the boys too. Sweet deal!
I need to go look to see who’s playing today…
Workin' 9 to 5 cause I got to make a livin'
“travailler:” to work
“un stage:” an internship
“un bureau:” an office
After a month of sleeping in, plugging away on the computer, and a few side travels, I have left my mini-summer vacation for the coveted internship I have been searching for during the last 3 months. I finally found an internship, and started working this past Thursday (06/17). Now I have to get up early and go to work everyday?? Besides the fact that I need the 6-month internship to earn my diploma and it will be good professional experience for my future, I have honestly been super bored so it will be nice to have something to do everyday!
I am working for a small pharmaceutical company located in Clermont-Ferrand called, Laboratoires Lyocentre. The company a well established, family-owned, having been started in 1956 and subsequently run by the original owners’ sons. The company was actually originally a cheese company, then the scientists working there starting researching for another way to use the “good” bacteria you find in dairy products, and the company evolved into what is it today. Their core products are called “probiotics,” natural medicines using probiotics in order to revamp the good bacteria in the GI tract and the vaginal cavity in cases of infections and such. The company is present in 40 countries, but not yet in the U.S. market, so my mission for the next 6 months will be to research the U.S. market and see if we can develop a strategy to enter. I am pretty excited to be working for this company for multiple reasons: I will learn a lot about the pharmaceutical industry and how different markets function, since it is a small company I will have access to all aspects of the company, enabling me to have a whole-scale perspective on how a company works, and finally, also because it is a small company, I will be working closely with the big boss people, the “VIPs” of the company.
The next two weeks are going to be some pretty heavy training, so by the end I’ll be chalk-full of knowledge about the products and operations of the company. Friday, the other two interns and I were taken on a tour of the factory and laboratories, which are located in a smaller town called Aurillac, about 2 hours south of Clermont. It was neat to see the actual operations on that side of the company, and begin to understand how the products are actually conceived and then produced.
My French should also improve very much over the next 6 months!
“un stage:” an internship
“un bureau:” an office
After a month of sleeping in, plugging away on the computer, and a few side travels, I have left my mini-summer vacation for the coveted internship I have been searching for during the last 3 months. I finally found an internship, and started working this past Thursday (06/17). Now I have to get up early and go to work everyday?? Besides the fact that I need the 6-month internship to earn my diploma and it will be good professional experience for my future, I have honestly been super bored so it will be nice to have something to do everyday!
I am working for a small pharmaceutical company located in Clermont-Ferrand called, Laboratoires Lyocentre. The company a well established, family-owned, having been started in 1956 and subsequently run by the original owners’ sons. The company was actually originally a cheese company, then the scientists working there starting researching for another way to use the “good” bacteria you find in dairy products, and the company evolved into what is it today. Their core products are called “probiotics,” natural medicines using probiotics in order to revamp the good bacteria in the GI tract and the vaginal cavity in cases of infections and such. The company is present in 40 countries, but not yet in the U.S. market, so my mission for the next 6 months will be to research the U.S. market and see if we can develop a strategy to enter. I am pretty excited to be working for this company for multiple reasons: I will learn a lot about the pharmaceutical industry and how different markets function, since it is a small company I will have access to all aspects of the company, enabling me to have a whole-scale perspective on how a company works, and finally, also because it is a small company, I will be working closely with the big boss people, the “VIPs” of the company.
The next two weeks are going to be some pretty heavy training, so by the end I’ll be chalk-full of knowledge about the products and operations of the company. Friday, the other two interns and I were taken on a tour of the factory and laboratories, which are located in a smaller town called Aurillac, about 2 hours south of Clermont. It was neat to see the actual operations on that side of the company, and begin to understand how the products are actually conceived and then produced.
My French should also improve very much over the next 6 months!
Friday, June 11, 2010
Serbian Weekend
“Dobra Don:” Hello
“Hvala:” Thank you
“Jebi ga” (I shouldn’t say what this means, but its usage is encouraged)
Me: “Hey Mom, I’m going to Serbia next weekend”
Mom: “Serbia? Huh.”
Last weekend, Kate and I ventured East to the small country of Serbia. Why Serbia? The question is, why not Serbia? We actually have a friend in the KU MBA program from Serbia, Ivana. We were able to meet up with two other girls from the KU MBA program who are studying in Italy and we all flew over together. I have to admit, I did not know very much about Serbia before going, even having to look at a map to be sure of its exact location.
After two short hours on a flight from Paris to Belgrade, we arrived on Serbian land to be greeted by Ivana. Her dad borrowed a van to cart us all back to her hometown, Zrenjanin (try saying that 10 times fast!), which was about an hour and a half from Belgrade. What made this trip so special (besides seeing friends after a long time), was that we were not exactly “tourists” wandering around aimlessly, we were actually with natives, and we were able to meet Ivana’s family and friends, stay in a home, and really get the “insider’s view” of Serbia. Friends and family made sure we were always well fed and well liquored as well! It’s called, hospitality, especially having the guests take shots of homemade liquor!
When we arrived, Ivana’s father, whom she calls “Čale,” (prounounced kind of like “Charlie,” meaning Dad), took us to a slightly nondescript building where we were to have lunch. While the outside did not seem like a welcoming restaurant as I know it, the inside boasted a long table for us with a checkered tablecloth and happy greetings from the staff. We set down at the table, ready for an already pre-selected menu by Ivana, not so sure what to expect! Wine arrived quickly, as well as the clear liquid that Ivana’s father was drinking. He does not speak English, with no matter, as he enjoyed interacting with us anyway, sometimes us understanding each other by gestures, other times with Ivana translating. Her mother also joined us for lunch; her parents have been divorced for 10 years but still act like old friends. The first course, as traditional in Serbia, was soup and bread. We were served family-style, with plenty of food for everyone, plus some. The soup was fabulous, a creamy broth with all sorts of vegetables and sausage. I could have eaten 3 bowlfuls but I had to remind myself that there was more food coming! Next, we were brought individual (but large) bowls of salad: cucumber and tomatoes with shredded feta on top. I have never had such good feta cheese! Between courses we snacked on break, with the bottomless baskets that kept appearing on the table. Next, huge platters of meat were brought to the table, called “BBQ” in Serbia (though not the same BBQ we know in Kansas). The platters contained 4 or 5 different types of grilled meat; sausage, pork, beef, cheese stuffed pork…all atop a pile of French fries and onions. Just when I thought I had no more room in my stomach, the waiter announced dessert of Serbian pancakes and chocolate (similar to crêpes). All 5 girls declared “Da” (yes) to dessert, while Ivana’s dad nonchalantly said, “No dessert for me, I’m driving,” (after Ivana translated), we all burst out in laughter. We pretty much had to roll ourselves back into the car, and went to Ivana’s home to meet the family and explore around in her neighborhood. Her town is not too big, and Ivana seemed pretty popular, greeting and chatting up with a different person around every corner!
A little interesting background on Ivana; she came to the United States at the end of high school. She started playing basketball in Serbia at age 7, and ended up playing for the Serbian national team when she was 15, which forced her to move to a different town and live in an apartment by herself at such a young age! She said she loved it, however. The problem with playing basketball during high school was that being on the team was very time consuming (2 practices a day), and very little importance was given to schooling. The pay Ivana was getting from playing basketball was what she was living off of, and if she missed a practice (even for school), she got docked pay. After some time, a choice pretty much had to be made between basketball and school, and Ivana knew she needed to get an education, so she found a way to go the U.S. to a prep school in West Virginia where she could play basketball and finish up high school. She was then recruited to play for the University of Kansas. Apparently she loved Kansas so much that she decided to stay after her 4 years to get an MBA as well. She has only been able to visit home once or twice a year in the last 6 years!
Back to the day we arrived-after exploring around town for a bit, we came back to Ivana’s to rest before going out. “Going out” does not happen in Serbia until 11pm or later, and continues to the wee hours of the morning, so we needed to prepare ourselves! Since we had a big lunch, which is the traditional large meal, Ivana’s mom informally served us a platter of sliced meats, bread, and pickles. She also made sure we each had a glass for some Serbian beer. This particular beer was not bad, and it came in a liter bottle for about the equivalent of 1 euro! Nice. Despite the rain, we headed out on the town, first to a bar where there was a rock cover band playing everything from Rage Against the Machine to Katy Perry. We met up with some of Ivana’s friends there and proceeded to have some more beers at very cheap prices. It was a very good time, with lots of dancing! Before the party could die down at this bar, we went to another bar to have some 1 euro pints before it closed. Just when you think the night may be over, we proceeded to go to another bar, a little after-hours basement place that you wouldn’t be able to find unless you knew about it. Pretty VIP. We all stumbled home around 5am, which some light starting to peak out over the horizon…pretty typical for Serbia nightly outings.
A couple of hours later, Ivana woke us all up to go meet her friend for some massages. A massage is just about the only thing that will get me out of bed after only a few hours of sleep! Ivana has a friend who just finished training to be a masseur so we all went and got 10 euro massages! After the spa session, Ivana took us to have a traditional Serbian “breakfast,” which was this huge pastry called Burek—essentially its phyllo dough with whatever filling you choose, can be meat or cheese. We had feta stuffed Bureks, and they were about the size of a half of a pie! It also comes with Serbian yogurt, in which you drink instead of eat with a spoon. This meal also costs the equivalent of 1 euro. Of course everything is really cheap for us in Serbia, but as it is a poorer country, the people who live there do not make that much money so 1 euro is not as cheap to them as it is to us. That afternoon, Ivana’s dad took us in the van to a bigger town about an hour away called Novisad. We started up at a fort atop a big hill to get a view of the town, and then ventured down and across the river. On this particular river, we could see the remnants of a bridge that was bombed in 1999. It was so amazing to me to realize that this country has a recent history, of which I do not know much about---when I think of being on the forefront of conflict years and years ago, it was recent activity for them. The town was hopping with many people out and about on a Saturday afternoon. It was neat to see the different styles and colors of architecture lining the streets, many little buildings boasting bright colors like pink, blue, and green. We also visited the Serbian Orthodox church where Ivana’s brother was recently married. What was most shocking to me was that there were no chairs or benches—everyone just stands during ceremonies.
That night we had dinner outside on the patio at Ivana’s house, while shooing the mosquitoes and cats away. Ivana’s mother served sodoma, which are cabbage rolls filled with rice and meat. They were quite delicious! She kept bringing it out too, making sure we had enough! Later, before going out, she made she we ate some salty food before going out and drinking-some roasted pork leg she had just cooked up. Before we went out, Ivana’s sister, brother-in-law, niece (Nevena) and nephew (Miloush) came over to say hi. She had warned us about her brother-in-law and his affinity for ensuring “hospitality” (drinking). We couldn’t get away without trying some shots of homemade pear liquor. It came in an unmarked bottle of course, which the Serbians say is the only way to do it. Her brother-in-law described to us that if you are having a special guest over, you need to be sure to make or have made some liquor, definitely not store-bought. Many of the liquors they have are made from different fruits, but they all end up clear (you know its strong if it’s clear!!). He also told us that it is actually traditional to take a shot before big lunches in Serbia. (I would need a nap afterward!). We went out later to a bar that was playing old 70’s and 80’s sing-a-long tunes, and we enjoyed some more 1 euro pints. We arrived before Ivana’s friends so we each had a beer, then when the boys acame they went to the bar, and I swear, came back with about 10 beers! Our table was quite full of drinks! Later, we went to a pub where traditional Serbian music is played…a bar full of long tables and people of all ages. I think we arrived at about 2am, with Ivana’s dad and his friends having a good time and with a table ready for us. (he was mad at us because we did not call him the night before at 5am to stop by the place, so we had to go this night!). An hour or so, with eyes drooping and thoughts about the flight in the morning, some of us headed back home.
An interesting tidbit about language in Serbia; while most of the younger generation does speak English, the older does not. Ivana’s mother had learned some in school, and from visiting the States, but her dad spoke no English. Apparently, when her parents went to school, her dad was taught Serbian and Russian, and her mom was taught Serbian and English—at that point they did not know which one would prevail!
I had a great time in Serbia, and I am so happy I went. Ivana asked each of us what we would take away from the trip. I realized that, even despite being kind of a poor country, not far from conflict, the Serbian people are all very nice and very happy people. Everyone we met was very friendly, and ready to have a drink! They are also a very open culture, with families all living close together (Ivanas aunt and uncle live above her mom, and her grandmother lives next door!), and they are jolly, not reserved, often using swear words in good company! It was a very fun weekend, despite not getting much sleep!
Traveling can be very humbling; it makes you realize how much world there is out there that you do not know about.
“Hvala:” Thank you
“Jebi ga” (I shouldn’t say what this means, but its usage is encouraged)
Me: “Hey Mom, I’m going to Serbia next weekend”
Mom: “Serbia? Huh.”
Last weekend, Kate and I ventured East to the small country of Serbia. Why Serbia? The question is, why not Serbia? We actually have a friend in the KU MBA program from Serbia, Ivana. We were able to meet up with two other girls from the KU MBA program who are studying in Italy and we all flew over together. I have to admit, I did not know very much about Serbia before going, even having to look at a map to be sure of its exact location.
After two short hours on a flight from Paris to Belgrade, we arrived on Serbian land to be greeted by Ivana. Her dad borrowed a van to cart us all back to her hometown, Zrenjanin (try saying that 10 times fast!), which was about an hour and a half from Belgrade. What made this trip so special (besides seeing friends after a long time), was that we were not exactly “tourists” wandering around aimlessly, we were actually with natives, and we were able to meet Ivana’s family and friends, stay in a home, and really get the “insider’s view” of Serbia. Friends and family made sure we were always well fed and well liquored as well! It’s called, hospitality, especially having the guests take shots of homemade liquor!When we arrived, Ivana’s father, whom she calls “Čale,” (prounounced kind of like “Charlie,” meaning Dad), took us to a slightly nondescript building where we were to have lunch. While the outside did not seem like a welcoming restaurant as I know it, the inside boasted a long table for us with a checkered tablecloth and happy greetings from the staff. We set down at the table, ready for an already pre-selected menu by Ivana, not so sure what to expect! Wine arrived quickly, as well as the clear liquid that Ivana’s father was drinking. He does not speak English, with no matter, as he enjoyed interacting with us anyway, sometimes us understanding each other by gestures, other times with Ivana translating. Her mother also joined us for lunch; her parents have been divorced for 10 years but still act like old friends. The first course, as traditional in Serbia, was soup and bread. We were served family-style, with plenty of food for everyone, plus some. The soup was fabulous, a creamy broth with all sorts of vegetables and sausage. I could have eaten 3 bowlfuls but I had to remind myself that there was more food coming! Next, we were brought individual (but large) bowls of salad: cucumber and tomatoes with shredded feta on top. I have never had such good feta cheese! Between courses we snacked on break, with the bottomless baskets that kept appearing on the table. Next, huge platters of meat were brought to the table, called “BBQ” in Serbia (though not the same BBQ we know in Kansas). The platters contained 4 or 5 different types of grilled meat; sausage, pork, beef, cheese stuffed pork…all atop a pile of French fries and onions. Just when I thought I had no more room in my stomach, the waiter announced dessert of Serbian pancakes and chocolate (similar to crêpes). All 5 girls declared “Da” (yes) to dessert, while Ivana’s dad nonchalantly said, “No dessert for me, I’m driving,” (after Ivana translated), we all burst out in laughter. We pretty much had to roll ourselves back into the car, and went to Ivana’s home to meet the family and explore around in her neighborhood. Her town is not too big, and Ivana seemed pretty popular, greeting and chatting up with a different person around every corner!
A little interesting background on Ivana; she came to the United States at the end of high school. She started playing basketball in Serbia at age 7, and ended up playing for the Serbian national team when she was 15, which forced her to move to a different town and live in an apartment by herself at such a young age! She said she loved it, however. The problem with playing basketball during high school was that being on the team was very time consuming (2 practices a day), and very little importance was given to schooling. The pay Ivana was getting from playing basketball was what she was living off of, and if she missed a practice (even for school), she got docked pay. After some time, a choice pretty much had to be made between basketball and school, and Ivana knew she needed to get an education, so she found a way to go the U.S. to a prep school in West Virginia where she could play basketball and finish up high school. She was then recruited to play for the University of Kansas. Apparently she loved Kansas so much that she decided to stay after her 4 years to get an MBA as well. She has only been able to visit home once or twice a year in the last 6 years!
A couple of hours later, Ivana woke us all up to go meet her friend for some massages. A massage is just about the only thing that will get me out of bed after only a few hours of sleep! Ivana has a friend who just finished training to be a masseur so we all went and got 10 euro massages! After the spa session, Ivana took us to have a traditional Serbian “breakfast,” which was this huge pastry called Burek—essentially its phyllo dough with whatever filling you choose, can be meat or cheese. We had feta stuffed Bureks, and they were about the size of a half of a pie! It also comes with Serbian yogurt, in which you drink instead of eat with a spoon. This meal also costs the equivalent of 1 euro. Of course everything is really cheap for us in Serbia, but as it is a poorer country, the people who live there do not make that much money so 1 euro is not as cheap to them as it is to us. That afternoon, Ivana’s dad took us in the van to a bigger town about an hour away called Novisad. We started up at a fort atop a big hill to get a view of the town, and then ventured down and across the river. On this particular river, we could see the remnants of a bridge that was bombed in 1999. It was so amazing to me to realize that this country has a recent history, of which I do not know much about---when I think of being on the forefront of conflict years and years ago, it was recent activity for them. The town was hopping with many people out and about on a Saturday afternoon. It was neat to see the different styles and colors of architecture lining the streets, many little buildings boasting bright colors like pink, blue, and green. We also visited the Serbian Orthodox church where Ivana’s brother was recently married. What was most shocking to me was that there were no chairs or benches—everyone just stands during ceremonies. That night we had dinner outside on the patio at Ivana’s house, while shooing the mosquitoes and cats away. Ivana’s mother served sodoma, which are cabbage rolls filled with rice and meat. They were quite delicious! She kept bringing it out too, making sure we had enough! Later, before going out, she made she we ate some salty food before going out and drinking-some roasted pork leg she had just cooked up. Before we went out, Ivana’s sister, brother-in-law, niece (Nevena) and nephew (Miloush) came over to say hi. She had warned us about her brother-in-law and his affinity for ensuring “hospitality” (drinking). We couldn’t get away without trying some shots of homemade pear liquor. It came in an unmarked bottle of course, which the Serbians say is the only way to do it. Her brother-in-law described to us that if you are having a special guest over, you need to be sure to make or have made some liquor, definitely not store-bought. Many of the liquors they have are made from different fruits, but they all end up clear (you know its strong if it’s clear!!). He also told us that it is actually traditional to take a shot before big lunches in Serbia. (I would need a nap afterward!). We went out later to a bar that was playing old 70’s and 80’s sing-a-long tunes, and we enjoyed some more 1 euro pints. We arrived before Ivana’s friends so we each had a beer, then when the boys acame they went to the bar, and I swear, came back with about 10 beers! Our table was quite full of drinks! Later, we went to a pub where traditional Serbian music is played…a bar full of long tables and people of all ages. I think we arrived at about 2am, with Ivana’s dad and his friends having a good time and with a table ready for us. (he was mad at us because we did not call him the night before at 5am to stop by the place, so we had to go this night!). An hour or so, with eyes drooping and thoughts about the flight in the morning, some of us headed back home.
An interesting tidbit about language in Serbia; while most of the younger generation does speak English, the older does not. Ivana’s mother had learned some in school, and from visiting the States, but her dad spoke no English. Apparently, when her parents went to school, her dad was taught Serbian and Russian, and her mom was taught Serbian and English—at that point they did not know which one would prevail!
I had a great time in Serbia, and I am so happy I went. Ivana asked each of us what we would take away from the trip. I realized that, even despite being kind of a poor country, not far from conflict, the Serbian people are all very nice and very happy people. Everyone we met was very friendly, and ready to have a drink! They are also a very open culture, with families all living close together (Ivanas aunt and uncle live above her mom, and her grandmother lives next door!), and they are jolly, not reserved, often using swear words in good company! It was a very fun weekend, despite not getting much sleep!
Traveling can be very humbling; it makes you realize how much world there is out there that you do not know about.
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