Tuesday, June 24, 2008

January 2002..THE EURO HITS PARIS!!


As some of you know, Mr and Mrs Z lived in Paris for four years....We lived there through Y2K and lived to tell it; we lived through 9/11 and were just glad to have lived, and we lived through the advent of the Euro. I wrote this 6 days after the new Euro first showed up.......Read about how the people handled it...we had some great times!

January 7, 2002

The Euro and our Café

As an American living in France, the Euro isn’t a huge disruption in my life, it’s worth just a bit less than our American dollar, so it works for me! There’s some romance gone from France with the disappearance of the francs, and sure, I’d just learned to pronounce the nasal “n” in “francs”, but nobody asked me. The best part is no more dividing everything by seven to go from French francs to its worth in dollars. My husband keeps reminding me his salary isn’t paid in dollars so the value in dollars doesn’t really apply to us but it matters to me; without an American dollar value in my head, everything might as well have been paid for with old E Ride tickets from Disneyland.

The problem is, since the demise of the francs, everything suddenly seems much more expensive. Had we been paying $12.00 for cold chicken and $4.00 for a cup of mint tea at the cafe all along? Maybe I was worse at dividing by seven than I thought. Today, I had my very last hot mint tea in a restaurant in France. Four DOLLARS for a teabag and some hot water? Gone are the days when I figured anything worth a seventh of what it said on the menu was cheap. The Euro’s close to the dollars, so I’m not confused anymore. But the waiters at my local café are.

The Euro came into use on January 1st. We were in our local bistro for our morning coffee January 2nd. Much had changed. Jean Paul, Mayda, Jean Claude, Brigitte, and the two waiters behind the counter, weren’t smiling as the usually do. Yes, we heard “Bonjour!”, but it didn’t have the bounce in it this time. They were not as busy as usual that morning as the French hadn’t returned from their ski trips and the reduction in the number of American tourists was most greatly noticed over the holidays, but the wait staff at the café was otherwise occupied. It was the Euro.

Until February 17th, the French can still take francs, but most are giving Euros in change. I say “most” because our other corner restaurant is giving back francs, whether it’s legal or not doesn’t seem to bother them or the authorities, which is nothing new for Paris. Our favorite Le Victor Hugo café is giving change in Euros for francs, and the wait staff is not happy. Suddenly, along with balancing little trays with four dollar mint tea on them, they’re also carrying tiny calculators, clutching them like a paycheck, like if it weren’t for that thing in their hand, they might as well have not come in.

Jean Paul, who usually discos himself around the café greeting strangers and good customers with almost the same verve (frequent customers like us get kisses and compliments with our greetings!), was suddenly not even smiling. He took one look at us, pointed to his calculator and said the whole thing was OVERBOARD! JUST too much!. Mayda looked tired for the first time, and Jean Claude was having enough difficulties managing his hangover without having to worry about making change, too.

Jean Claude started working at Le Victor six months ago. It was positively startling to have a new waiter at our local, having become used to the same people over 2 ½ years, rather like suddenly finding an extra brother one morning at the breakfast table. It didn’t take long for us to warm to him, all we had to do was see his way of giving change which, when he first came, was still in francs. You see, Jean Claude wears the obligatory long sleeved white shirt, black vest, black bow tie, and black pants, but it’s his vest that’s the best part. Jean Claude’s vest has several long horizontal pockets across the front, around his belly. The first day my husband paid him for our coffees and croissants, he took the money and suddenly his fingers started flying across his vest, bringing out coins from his pockets in rapid succession….some coins from one, another coin from around the other side. We watched and realized that each pocket had different values of francs in it, ten francs coins in one pocket, ½ franc in another. And he managed this pulling at his vest quicker than one could manage one of those metal change boxes that we have in the States where you push the top of each section and the coin comes down. The man played his vest like someone playing an accordion. He knew exactly what each pocket had without a downward glance. Well, with the change to Euro, Jean Claude still wears his vest, but it’s not the same. At first, I saw him grab for a coin then immediately grab a coin from another pocket and check them against each other for size. They’re very close in size and many values are the same color, so it’s hard to tell. Today, I noticed Jean Claude’s wearing his glasses all the time. Now he needs only to look carefully at the number written on them. Things are different.

That first day of the Euro was the first day I’d say that staff looked stressed. There have been days when the place is so full you can barely walk through, when Mayda walks up the steps to the second level seating area carrying three hot dishes and still smiling brightly as usual. I’ve been there when Jean Paul had a table full of foreigners who’d left their smiles at home, and still Jean Paul, though teasing us about them from behind a column, mimicking their long faces and refusal to fall for his charms, remained full of laughter and good humor. But, not the day the Euro hit.

“Look, Madame Star!” (that’s his moniker for me because I wear dark glasses, and who would protest that name?), “Look at these awful things,” he said, holding out a handful of coins, affording me my first look at a bunch of them all together in one place. “This is terrible, it’s too difficult. And it’s not French!” Not to mention it looked less like real money and more like the shiny, foil-covered chocolate candies the French give their children at Christmas, I wanted to add, but my French doesn’t go that far.

The rest of the time that morning, while we sipped our coffee, one or the other of the staff would stop at our table between duties and bemoan the Euro all over again, holding the calculator up in the air and shaking it, making faces, or simply rolling their eyes as they walked by.

It’s been a week now since the Euro befell the European Union and the press says all has gone superbly well. I’d say it’s been less superb at our neighborhood café, but it’s getting better. We were there for lunch today. Other than the fact that you can see them squinting to see which value coin they’re giving you back, and they’re still huddling together in little meetings about what the change for a client comes to, they’re getting used to it. Jean Paul was almost back to dancing himself through the cafe today and, in a week, Jean Claude will have memorized his vest.

As for me, I’d say it’s the first time in my life I’d have rather continued to divide by seven. At least then, I may never have awakened to the fact that I was paying four dollars and change for a cup of tea.


23 comments:

Anonymous said...

You lived in Paris? How wonderful. My big dream of spending some time in Paris is fading with the rise of the E.U. and massive unintegrated immigration. I deal with a lot of French for a living though and I get a taste of le baguette avec le beurre Francais, the lively chit chat and tales of Provence in the Summer.
The events which have unfolded since the introduction of the Euro and now, with Sarkozy heading towards being the king of the world from the 1st of July have really cast a long shadow across the world that was.

Anonymous said...

Z, I love your writings of Paris.
So romantic.

I hated the arrival of the Euro, although it did little to affect me personally.

Oh, how I'd love to sit in a cafe and sip some of that hot tea....four dollars or not.

nanc said...

what a story!

and to think how low our dollar has sunk. oy.

it would be a cold day in hell before i'd pay that much for tea, but a beer on the other hand...ha!

Z said...

Hi, ladies...sure was a great time there..

you had to see Jean Claude slapping his chest and pulling francs out of every pocket before the Euro arrived..he was SO fast! It was like quickly knitting, you know? those fingers flying around getting just the right change for you? That Euro REALLY slowed it down, but I'm sure he's back up to speed..just wish I could SEE HIM. Right now..:-(
After 3 weeks of knowing him, he went on a week's holiday in Spain and when I walked in that first morning he was back, I looked down at the table and there was a little ribbon-wrapped present for me! Imagine? SUCH a nice guy. Another waiter, Jean Paul, after 9/11, offered us to go live with his mother in Nancy if muslims started picking on Americans there... amazing people.

Nanc...the Euro's KILLING my American friends who're retired with the dollar or still earn dollar incomes..it's awful. An average of $13-18 for a small glass of wine in a restaurant. Some have retired 'well' but when you suddenly are paying 35% more for everything you budgeted for, it isn't a great way to go.
Some are talking about moving back here.


I wish this world would get down to normal again. I never realized just how safe and nice it felt.

Brooke said...

Nanc, a beer would probably be something like $17.60. LOL!

Wonderful writing, Z! :)

Steve Harkonnen said...

You probably had a much better time in Paris than we did, considering our stay was originally intended for two nights but ended up being just one day.

Back in 1984 when I got stationed at SHAPE in Belgium, and since the dollar was good against the European currencies, we decided one day to take the train from Mons and headed to Paris.

When we arrived, the people there were outwardly unfriendly toward us; maybe it was because I was the American. My wife (now my ex) was Belgian and she could speak and understand French, fortunately for me.

We went to see the Eifel tower and even had a dame blanche (that's ice cream and chocolate syrup) at the Jules Verne in the tower. Besides the unfriendly atmosphere, it was raining, so we went over to the Louvre and had a wonderful time there, even though we got strange looks whenever I spoke English.

But since the hotel wasn't what we had expected, we decided to just get on the train back to Mons and spent our holiday in Brussels itself....there's two vastly different cities - at least in Brussels they were far more friendly there than in Paris.

Z said...

steve....I HATED Paris on my first 3-day visit. HATED it and was devastated when we 'had' to move there. It took a week of having my own incredible (company paid for) apartment in a great area, etc etc...to never want to leave...even THIS America-loving girl felt (feels) that way!!

You'd have been better off with an American wife...as you know, there's no love lost between the Belgians and the French!!...and they both can SMELL the other (that's figurative, don't get excited, you French haters! SMILE!)

Z said...

I mean Beamish there.


:-)

Z said...

Brooke..I really appreciate that. thanks. xx

(((Thought Criminal))) said...

French people reek of perfumed body funk because they don't take baths often enough.

But you have to get them away from France to detect it. In France, their stench is drowned out by the dog shit on the sidewalks and open sewers.

Damn barbarians.

MathewK said...

That sure is a lot of money for a cup of tea. And there i was thinking things were all good over in Eurabia. Perhaps all that consternation was a sign of things to come.

Z said...

MK...you don't see muslims in Paris...they're in the outlying 'burbs burning cars and cities as quickly as the French build them for them...sad, but true.

And beamish, they do take baths, but you're right about the dog poop...it's almost as bad as down my street here. And that's the truth!, sadly.

(((Thought Criminal))) said...

Z,

French people don't bathe often enough to get that French smell off of them.

The Merry Widow said...

Actually, my parents, who lived in England, said it was the lack of cleaning of the clothing...of course during war that isn't a major concern.
Here in Florida, you take a plastic bag along to retrieve your dog's "emissions"...and on the beach, who cares? It washes away, and is less offensive than the twits who leave their trash, cigarette butts, dead fish they disn't throw back, broken bottles and crushed cans...THAT'S OFFENSIVE!
But it sounds wonderful that you lived there and got to know the people. And that was sweet of Jean Claude...testamony to your attractive spirit. my dear!

tmw

Z said...

TMW...ya, the Brits have a worse rep than most in Europe for 'that'..!!

The law here says you need to scoop up your dog's stuff into a bag and discard it, too (you couldn't imagine there's a law WE don't have here, could yoU!?)....a few don't, though.

Thanks, tmw..Jean Claude's gift STUNNED me, and one of the sadnesses is that I lost the little Don Quixote statue in our move. I hope it turns up some day..it was very special. Jean Paul, the waiter we knew the longest and also adored, did a fast sketch of me on a cardboard coaster and THAT, I cherish!! AMAZING memories, tmw..Amazing.

Some day, I'll write in depth about taking hot Armenian appetizers to that exact cafe on Christmas Eve with a couple visiting from Canada who used to live there...I warmed up the stuff and we got all dressed and went there, opened champagne, etc...before Christmas Eve church services nearby. The staff's eyes popped out that I'd brought them hot special things and that we'd share champagne with them! Beautiful night!
Fois Gras and a pasta in lemon cream sauce for dinner after church. !!mmmm
actually, that's all the 'in depth' there really is!

Anonymous said...

Z,
I love making friends with people like that. They come in and out of our lives, but leave such an impact. Change us forever. It's sacred, really.

Anonymous said...

I'd bet you money that they haven't and never will forget you.
Who could??

Beamish, did you date a really mean French girl once?
*snicker, snicker*

Z said...

Beamish, if you're going to answer Pinky, could you do it at her site? There isn't enough space here to tell her why you'd never date a French girl.......

oy, Pinky, YOU DIDN'T~!!! (Smile)

Anonymous said...

Oh, yes I did. *sly grin*
I love antagonizing Beamish.

(((Thought Criminal))) said...

You'd think a country that makes Bic razors could teach their women how to shave...

Z said...

$#*()&$(*&$% merde

Anonymous said...

Bwahahaha!

Z, I used to think the hairy pits were gross, but, eh? Never been to Europe...would LOVE to go. It'll have to wait for quite a while now. Have you ever seen Before Sunset? And the follow up? Before Sunrise? Ethan Hawke and Julie Dupri...


......I think he's all talk. hee hee.

Anonymous said...

Ooops, got those movies bassackwards.