Right then, well ... this might offend some of you. Say, if you're at all defensive about the U.S. reputation abroad - or if you think the French still haven't thanked you enough for our grandparents' sacrifices ... but so be it. This is my little soapbox.
I've spent the last several years operating in global teams. Of course, I was based in the U.S. for most of those years. But now I'm based over here and my job is European Leader of blah blah blah. So I often find myself representing Europe in a team that includes, and is often led by, Americans. And I'll tell you what (read that in a Hank Hill voice) ... it's been eye-opening and educational.
There is definitely a "vibe" that comes from U.S. colleagues -- kind of a 1-sided sort of a thing. And this might very well have been true of me when I was the U.S. based team leader, but it's kind of an assumption that because a person is an American, he/she has the best knowledge and insight. And all non-Americans on the call have the burden of proof to show otherwise. And it often takes on a certain belligerence from the U.S. side. Of course, there's nothing wrong with a challenge or tough questions. But shutting down free 2-way communication is problematic.
I asked around a little among European colleagues and I think it's a generally understood phenomenon. Anywho, to quote my favorite moralists from Southpark: "I think I learned something today ..."
Friday, February 20, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
So Basic
So basic ... make up 40 straightforward questions and send a bunch film crews around the world to tape ordinary people answering them. Brilliant.
That's basically the premise of the exposition I saw at Le Grande Palais this evening: 6 millliards d'Autres (6 billion others) by Yann Arthus-Bertrand. They set up dozens of flatscreens in the pavilion, segmented into themes like Fears, Childhood Memories, Love Stories, War, etc. and play back peoples' answers to the 40 questions. "What is your first memory?" "Do you believe in God?" "Do you have enemies? Why?"
It's stretching on so many levels. These are non-celebrities from all over: Chechnya, Iraq, Afghanistan, New Guinea, Rwanda, UK, US, etc. They aren't crisp, polished, or brief. But they're honest and compelling.
I don't know if it's a travelling expo. But if it comes to your town ... go, watch, and listen. And be patient.
That's basically the premise of the exposition I saw at Le Grande Palais this evening: 6 millliards d'Autres (6 billion others) by Yann Arthus-Bertrand. They set up dozens of flatscreens in the pavilion, segmented into themes like Fears, Childhood Memories, Love Stories, War, etc. and play back peoples' answers to the 40 questions. "What is your first memory?" "Do you believe in God?" "Do you have enemies? Why?"
It's stretching on so many levels. These are non-celebrities from all over: Chechnya, Iraq, Afghanistan, New Guinea, Rwanda, UK, US, etc. They aren't crisp, polished, or brief. But they're honest and compelling.
I don't know if it's a travelling expo. But if it comes to your town ... go, watch, and listen. And be patient.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
The Next Day
I got to La Défense this morning just in time to watch the sun rise over the Arc de Triomphe (the French know a thing or two about urban lines of sight). It was an important pause in an otherwise busy day.
A pause was an important start to today because yesterday was hard. Most CBIP readers will know that our friend, David Kaplowitz, died yesterday. We knew it was coming. But it was hard news and it totally kicked my ass yesterday. To the point where I had to excuse myself from a conversation because I couldn't talk.
David and I hadn't spoken in over a year. And before that, we hadn't spoken in several years. But those two silences had completely different causes. He and I were close friends back in the late 80's and early 90's - coleading a worship band. We had a falling out over a church decision. I sided with the church over him. In fact, I took on the role of church spokesman to give him the bad news.
Over time I realized that I was wrong. I prioritized an institution over a friendship. Fortunately, David forgave me when we saw each other last year. But then there was distance and an international move and a grandbaby and ... we didn't speak again.
And so, I feel profound loss.
Goodbye David.
A pause was an important start to today because yesterday was hard. Most CBIP readers will know that our friend, David Kaplowitz, died yesterday. We knew it was coming. But it was hard news and it totally kicked my ass yesterday. To the point where I had to excuse myself from a conversation because I couldn't talk.
David and I hadn't spoken in over a year. And before that, we hadn't spoken in several years. But those two silences had completely different causes. He and I were close friends back in the late 80's and early 90's - coleading a worship band. We had a falling out over a church decision. I sided with the church over him. In fact, I took on the role of church spokesman to give him the bad news.
Over time I realized that I was wrong. I prioritized an institution over a friendship. Fortunately, David forgave me when we saw each other last year. But then there was distance and an international move and a grandbaby and ... we didn't speak again.
And so, I feel profound loss.
Goodbye David.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Hello? Hello? Is this thing on?
Yeah, that was quite a little quiet period, eh?
Well let's see ... there was a crazy "little" work thing that consumed all of my waking and many of my sleeping hours. But I delivered it last week in London and now all is well in the land. Travers and Jean were here for a few days and then another few days -- and that was cool.
So today was penciled in on the calendar as the day for returning to life as usual in Paris. Then, I stepped out the street door this morning and into 3 inches of snow. Totally unexpected. I snapped this shot when I came back upstairs for my umbrella:
Some of you have sat in that very chair and so you will recognize it as the best seat in the house here at Chez Burnett. When you sit there, you face West and look down Boulevard du Montparnasse directly at La Tour Eiffel. It doesn't suck. Anyway, here is a picture of it ... um, you know ... covered in snow.
Moving on ... I took this one yesterday before the snow started falling. It's one of the fountains at La Place de la Concorde. This spot sits in between Les Jardins des Tuileries and Avenue des Champs-Elysées ... very central. Just a few short days ago there were either 1M or 2.5M protestors here (depending on whose statistics you believe). But I just thought the light was cool there yesterday:
Well let's see ... there was a crazy "little" work thing that consumed all of my waking and many of my sleeping hours. But I delivered it last week in London and now all is well in the land. Travers and Jean were here for a few days and then another few days -- and that was cool.
So today was penciled in on the calendar as the day for returning to life as usual in Paris. Then, I stepped out the street door this morning and into 3 inches of snow. Totally unexpected. I snapped this shot when I came back upstairs for my umbrella:
Some of you have sat in that very chair and so you will recognize it as the best seat in the house here at Chez Burnett. When you sit there, you face West and look down Boulevard du Montparnasse directly at La Tour Eiffel. It doesn't suck. Anyway, here is a picture of it ... um, you know ... covered in snow.
Moving on ... I took this one yesterday before the snow started falling. It's one of the fountains at La Place de la Concorde. This spot sits in between Les Jardins des Tuileries and Avenue des Champs-Elysées ... very central. Just a few short days ago there were either 1M or 2.5M protestors here (depending on whose statistics you believe). But I just thought the light was cool there yesterday:
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Upside of Aging
CBIP is on Fire! Three posts in two days -- gee.
So this past weekend, Carol paid one of her semi-annual visits to Paris ... this time on her way to Marseilles. I last saw her 24 years ago when her Dad married Lora and me. And even then, we weren't exactly close. At Glenerie Chapel, she was the college girl heading off to school and I was the snot-nosed, strung-out-on-Ritalin, youth group punk. Plus I was hanging out with Jay a lot at the time, so ....
Anyway, not exactly the same social circles. But the upside of aging is that the meaning of our age differential (which is actually pretty small) shrunk over time. So given our mutual affection for Paris and a shared, long-ago evangelical experience it was cool to hang out at Musée d'Orsay (the Lévy-Dhurmer pastels were other-worldly) and Le Galway reminiscing about Kingston, Saugerties, Glenerie Chapel, Ray Newton, Alan Rowe, and whatever the hell we called that Tennis Club church thingy that had the strongest, loudest flourescent lights known to man (Jill described our wedding there as resembling a Hoedown -- not that there's anything wrong with that). Come to think of it, that was the very location where my Dad first heard Lolly effortlessly drop an expletive into conversation. Good times.
So keep an eye on Carol's blog and maybe even convince her to turn on the comment feature so you can ask her how the writing is going (oops!) And thanks Carol for hanging out - it was really fun.
So this past weekend, Carol paid one of her semi-annual visits to Paris ... this time on her way to Marseilles. I last saw her 24 years ago when her Dad married Lora and me. And even then, we weren't exactly close. At Glenerie Chapel, she was the college girl heading off to school and I was the snot-nosed, strung-out-on-Ritalin, youth group punk. Plus I was hanging out with Jay a lot at the time, so ....
Anyway, not exactly the same social circles. But the upside of aging is that the meaning of our age differential (which is actually pretty small) shrunk over time. So given our mutual affection for Paris and a shared, long-ago evangelical experience it was cool to hang out at Musée d'Orsay (the Lévy-Dhurmer pastels were other-worldly) and Le Galway reminiscing about Kingston, Saugerties, Glenerie Chapel, Ray Newton, Alan Rowe, and whatever the hell we called that Tennis Club church thingy that had the strongest, loudest flourescent lights known to man (Jill described our wedding there as resembling a Hoedown -- not that there's anything wrong with that). Come to think of it, that was the very location where my Dad first heard Lolly effortlessly drop an expletive into conversation. Good times.
So keep an eye on Carol's blog and maybe even convince her to turn on the comment feature so you can ask her how the writing is going (oops!) And thanks Carol for hanging out - it was really fun.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Winter Light
It's been freezing here since I got back. The dusting of snow that fell a week ago is still hanging around. But I ventured out to try and capture some of that winter light. Most of these are in and around Les Invalides.
The man, the legend ... plus he even has a complex named after him. If I had a complex named after me it would apply to people burdened with the ability to see too many shades of gray.
Parisian snow
Le temps de Noël is over ...
... or is it?
Outside Le Bon Marché ...
A French roach-coach:
The man, the legend ... plus he even has a complex named after him. If I had a complex named after me it would apply to people burdened with the ability to see too many shades of gray.
Parisian snow
Le temps de Noël is over ...
... or is it?
Outside Le Bon Marché ...
A French roach-coach:
Culture Peace
... as opposed to culture wars. Heh.
It's been over 6 months since we moved to France and I paid my first visit back to the U.S. over the Christmas holiday. I'm back in Paris as of a few days ago and, happy to report, my luggage appeared just 30 hours after I did. That stands as an unqualified success for United.
In the U.S. I spent time in Oakland, Napa Valley, and the Seattle burbs. (I won't count the few hours I was in San Francisco and Pleasanton). It was a chance to play the cultural comparison game between France and the U.S. and between the individual towns. The truth is: I like all of these places for their respective good qualities. Of course, they each have their weaknesses too.
The scene that unfolded in Oakland starting with the Fruitvale BART shooting and the subsequent violent protest is nearly identical to previous situations in the Paris suburbs. American and French cities are opposites in terms of socioeconomics in the urban and suburban zones, but we share the racial tensions.
French cities and towns seem to have two consistent qualities: 1) they're built on a human scale (generally 7-storey buildings); and 2) they go to lengths to preserve beauty in architecture, public art, open spaces, etc. It seems to me that American cities give top priority to commerce. In fact, I would say that this prioritization defines the primary difference between France and the U.S. - not just in city planning but in the two cultures generally. In the U.S. we accept costs in other components of our culture if there is a commercial benefit. That doesn't seem to be true in France. I wouldn't say that one of these approaches is better than the other. But it makes for pretty interesting lifestyle differences that are worth experiencing - even if it's just a brief visit.
The French and American wine regions seem pretty similar to me: idyllic façades on top of rural foundations and lots of pride in their products. You run into snobs in both places and you also meet perfectly lovely people. I, for one, will continue to "support" both of them.
I've spent most of my life in American suburbs - even our house within the city limits of Oakland is in a pretty calm spot (the biggest challenge is wildlife related - deer falling in the pool). I like the peace and the space you get in an American suburb but, good Lord, if I never see another strip mall it will be too soon. Oh and Walmart too.
And one final, random cultural note: French people don't dislike Americans. It's a narcissistic American myth. Now, it is true that some of my French associates dislike self-centered, arrogant people whose minds are closed to dissenting opinions. But anti-American? Mais non!
It's been over 6 months since we moved to France and I paid my first visit back to the U.S. over the Christmas holiday. I'm back in Paris as of a few days ago and, happy to report, my luggage appeared just 30 hours after I did. That stands as an unqualified success for United.
In the U.S. I spent time in Oakland, Napa Valley, and the Seattle burbs. (I won't count the few hours I was in San Francisco and Pleasanton). It was a chance to play the cultural comparison game between France and the U.S. and between the individual towns. The truth is: I like all of these places for their respective good qualities. Of course, they each have their weaknesses too.
The scene that unfolded in Oakland starting with the Fruitvale BART shooting and the subsequent violent protest is nearly identical to previous situations in the Paris suburbs. American and French cities are opposites in terms of socioeconomics in the urban and suburban zones, but we share the racial tensions.
French cities and towns seem to have two consistent qualities: 1) they're built on a human scale (generally 7-storey buildings); and 2) they go to lengths to preserve beauty in architecture, public art, open spaces, etc. It seems to me that American cities give top priority to commerce. In fact, I would say that this prioritization defines the primary difference between France and the U.S. - not just in city planning but in the two cultures generally. In the U.S. we accept costs in other components of our culture if there is a commercial benefit. That doesn't seem to be true in France. I wouldn't say that one of these approaches is better than the other. But it makes for pretty interesting lifestyle differences that are worth experiencing - even if it's just a brief visit.
The French and American wine regions seem pretty similar to me: idyllic façades on top of rural foundations and lots of pride in their products. You run into snobs in both places and you also meet perfectly lovely people. I, for one, will continue to "support" both of them.
I've spent most of my life in American suburbs - even our house within the city limits of Oakland is in a pretty calm spot (the biggest challenge is wildlife related - deer falling in the pool). I like the peace and the space you get in an American suburb but, good Lord, if I never see another strip mall it will be too soon. Oh and Walmart too.
And one final, random cultural note: French people don't dislike Americans. It's a narcissistic American myth. Now, it is true that some of my French associates dislike self-centered, arrogant people whose minds are closed to dissenting opinions. But anti-American? Mais non!
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