Ceci n'est pas une endive

To content | To menu | To search

somewhere else

Entries feed - Comments feed

Friday, May 23 2008

Music to a Dance With Death

By notafish on Friday, May 23 2008, 12:52

Back to Alexandria, Egypt. So you've got the dance, but you also have the music, and the lighting. Unless you're the Mime Marceau (and probably some dancers I don't know), you need the music to dance to, and in order for your audience to see you well, a good lighting might come in handy.

When it comes to music, I'll pass on the actual noise of rush hour traffic, caused by an unusually high number of old cars, which make did not include silence as the primary concern, and by the high speed of them on the streets. More interesting to listen to is the actual conversations that go on between drivers. Those are primary led through the car horn.

Seriously, when you observe a driver, you realize that their hand spends more time on the horn than on the stirring wheel or the shift (not exactly reassuring, but hey...). I seriously believe that driving without a functionning horn is like driving blind (and when I actually asked the question, they said that it was the case). After three days, I was however able to recognize that there were very different uses of the horn.

Some were briefs honks, others repetitive patterns, other again long pressures. Something that could pass as morse code. The Egyptians I was with confirmed that there were actual phrases you could say with your horn, universally recognized. Those range from "hello", to "you as**ole" via "I love you". Yes, you read well, you can actually say "I love you" with a honk on Egyptian streets. I failed to note all the meanings, which I regret, but even non drivers have trouble interpreting them all.

The second means of communication between drivers are the lights. Those are mostly used during the night, which makes sense, but not much in the way I at least, use them. The default driving at night occurs with no lights, and the drivers use them to either wake up the other drivers, warn them that they're going to pass them, on the right, on the left, in the middle. The patterns did not seem to me to be as complex as the sound ones, but interesting nonetheless.

My conclusion would be that driving is a very complete activity, much like roaming, which really appeals to very many senses. Much more than it is in Europe. Mind you, the Italians would probably feel at home in Egypt, the Parisians would take just a while to adapt, and the Germans would rather die than try their luck at it!

one comment no trackback

Tuesday, May 20 2008

A Dance With Death

By notafish on Tuesday, May 20 2008, 12:18

I spent three days in Alexandria, Egypt two weeks ago. It was my first time in Egypt. And since my quick stop in Naples a few years ago, the first time I thought my life was really in danger by *just* crossing the street. As a matter of fact, no tourist or unpracticed individual should ever try to be a full-fledged pedestrian in Egypt, or a driver, for that matter. Unless you're suicidal, or like Russian roulette. The first contact I had with the driving habits happened at 3 am, when I landed in Borg-El-Arab, the far-away airport for Alexandria. A taxi was waiting for me, which is always a great relief when arriving in an unknown country at odd hours. The driver was very nice, and listened to French music (from old French crooners to Emilie Jolie, the Halliday version). And he drove without lights. I mean, it was 3 in the morning, and it was night. And the road was not exactly a very new highway, but rather a bumpy road full of strange holes, not mentionning the in-the-middle-of-the-road boulders or unknown lying objects. After a few kilometers, I asked him. "Why are you driving without lights?" To which he answered this very obvious thing: "Well, there are lights on the road." And sure enough, the highway we were driving on was all lit up, all the way from borg-El-Arab to Alexandria. But still, it was 3 o'clock in the morning, and no-one had lights. And I couldn't see them well. And those trucks we passed (with no lights) were looking very sleepy, hovering from one side of the road to the other without warning. But that was just a night trip, and you only really understand the extent of skills needed to drive in Alexandria in broad daylight. Which happened the day after, when the friends I was meeting there came to get me.

Alexandria is a very long city stretching along the Mediterranean. Its biggest street is a 3 to 7 lane (each direction) boulevard along the sea. It is the main artery in the city, which allows you to go from the citadel and presidential palace on the one end to the Montazah gardens on the other. Along the 20 km or so of this street, there are no red lights (although I must say that the meaning of street lights in Egypt is a theoretical concept). And no zebra crossing. None. Maybe one or two pedestrian bridges? Anyway. In order to go anywhere in Alexandria, you *need* to take this street. And if you don't yourself have a car, you need to take the bus, or the micro-buses (hop-on taxis that cruise the street). And, to do so, at one point, you *must* cross the street. And risk your life. As indeed, in Egypt, crossing the street, as well as driving, is an art. Something of a dance with death. I would have given my shirt to be able to film the traffic from above, and watch the impromptu choreography of it. Man and machine, forever avoiding each other. It is really an amazing sight, something of an endless ballet. Cars smoothly fitting themselves in one small opening in the traffic, or firmly pushing their way into a lane, bumpers flirting with other bumpers, carosserie flirting with people's feet or behinds. Since then I learned that Egypt had one of the highest mortality rates caused by traffic... Deadly choreography indeed.

no comment no trackback

Tuesday, January 29 2008

Holy state! the Church got me (again)

By notafish on Tuesday, January 29 2008, 15:32

Well, here is the sequel to my very interesting story about the German Church getting a hold of me.

Actually, I probably need to rectify something. It is not so much the Church that got me, but the German State. So let me explain the next steps.

When I saw that the Finanzamt (Tax office) was ready to take away this "Church tax" on top of my normal taxes, I appealed. And said that I ws never told, as I registered at the townhall when I arrived in Germany, that checking that little box would make me a catholic in the eyes of... the State. I called the Finanzamt, talked with the person in charge of my file for a while, she was pretty comprehensive and said Well, why don't you write this down and send it to me, we'll see what the next step is. Which I did. That was back in November sometime. I finally got an answer a few days ago, which went something like:

According to § 5 Alinea 1 sentence 1 of the Church tax law, the obligation to pay church taxes starts on the first day of month following the date at which you have registered your residence. ... Since you have registered on the 15th of JUly 2005 and did not register your lack of confession (keine Konfessionslosigkeit), Church taxes are due as of the 1st of August 2005.

As the Germans say: Pech gehabt! (Too bad...). There is one thing that totally strikes me here, it is that they don't say "since you have registered that you were a catholic", no no, they say "since you have not registered that you were without confession". I find the phrasing (a double negation) at best uncomprehensible, at least quite ambguous. But it goes back to what I said in my earlier post, which is that basically, I failed to prove my innocence, so I'm guilty.

Well, receiveing this letter, which basically discarded the explanation I had given (ie. "I am French, in France we don't do this, when I registered, I was not made aware of the consequences of my checking that box etc.), I tried to see what I could do. Answer from my accountant: Two options. Either you can make the Town's administration change the check box by convincing them that you weren't aware of the consequences, or you have to take the necessary steps to get out of the Church..

Well, I tried the first option. And heard in so many words from the woman who registered me at the time (2 and a half years ago) that she had explained to me everything at thetime about the consequences of checking that little box. Guess what, she already had told the Finanzamt about the fact that she *always* explains to foreigners very exactly what that little box means. Huh? If that were the case, I don't see how much differently I could have understood the thing two years ago and today, and if I had been aware of the implications, I am not sure I would make all this fuss about it today. But you see, it's her word (German, civil servant) , against mine (French, freelancer, broken German). Tell you what, I've lost to start with.

So my only option was to get out of the church. This famous Church I never got in in the first place. Epic story if there ever was one.

In Hessen, you need to go to the Amtsgericht (municipal court) to "leave the Church" (or opt out, escape, resign, contract out...). When you get to the office "Kirchen Austritt", you need to provide an up to date registration form (the famous one I had checked wrongly), which means that basically, the one that you have checked in the first place is not valid anymore (go figure!). Once you have that, you are carefully read what you are doing 'in case you're not sure of what you are doing). You then have to pay 25,00 €, get a few signatures on the paper and you are finally out of the church, effective on that day.

So, 2 years and 6 months after not having entered the German Roman Catholic Church, I am finally out of it. And I must say that I am also angry at the German culture like I have never been before. I feel betrayed, used, disregarded in my culture and beliefs. I think it is the first time in my life that I am so bitter at one of those ever present administrative glitches, because the German State has coerced me into supporting a Church that I not only do not support, but have clearly not supported in more than 10 years.

One lesson learned, I will never again go to a German administration without a German speaker, or at least a dictionary, and I will make sure that I understand everything, or simply refuse to sign.

Another lesson learned, no matter what your feelings about how close to your culture another culture can be, make sure you are not missing a vital piece of information like " The Germans, when it comes to matters of religion, are 100 years behind the French".

A few remarks out of the blue:

  • It seems I am not the only one who finds those practices (mixing Church and State) unbelievable: other foreigners, believers or not believers, catholic or not have had the same reaction as mine
  • There are Germans that don't like the fact that the German State is so tied to the German Church (See the Save Yourselves The Church website)
  • If I had wanted to get married religiously before I actually "got out of the Church", the Church would have asked for a certificate of baptism from me not older than 6 months. Can someone explain to me how come it's enough to check a box in a State office to become a full-fledged (paying) member of the Church, but not enough to benefit from the Church's services? What is valid in one place should be valid everywhere. But no, when money is involved, the Church is not so demanding as when faith is involved.
  • In my first tax receipt, in 2005, since I had not earned any money and did not have to pay any taxes, the fact that I was "Kirchensteuerpflichtig" (ie. that I had to pay Church taxes) was not even mentionned on my tax return form.
  • Several conversations with Germans of different affiliations (believers, non-believers, politicians, non-politicians) have shown me that this tie between Church and State is much more than just a legal bound, it is a very strong social pressure. But I'll talk about this in another post, another day, when I am less angry.

one comment no trackback

Friday, November 30 2007

German punctuality is overrated

By notafish on Friday, November 30 2007, 07:43

I am pretty sure that if you ask anyone in the world to give you one cliché about the Germans, there's a pretty good chance that "The Germans are always on time" or "The Germans are very organized" will come up more than once. In any case, that's what French people would say.

And after two years and some living in Germany, I must say that this is rather true. Except for one thing. Doctors. Seriously.

I never really go to the doctor to start with, so I have little experience with wiating rooms altogether. To top that, my parents have enough doctors friends for me to have always been privileged and able to get a consultation between two other patients, or after hours. But still. In a country where punctuality is erected as a national sport, I can't believe the time I have been losing in the past few weeks in doctor's waiting rooms.

First, there's the doctor that follows up on the baby. I think he's the worst. We have an appointement at say... 8.30 in the morning. It's the first appointment of the day. Still, we never enter the consultation room before 9.15, at the earliest. I's not even that the doctor stays stuck in trafic or anything of the kind. Nope. He just is late. So we tried the middle of the day. Appointment at 15.30, got in at 16.30. One hour right there. The end of the day. Appointment at 18.00 you get in at 18.45. The problem is, even if you know that, you can't really arrive half an hour later, because then the next patient will have been here before you (i.e., you're considered "late") and they'll be seen before you. That's the Ordnung (the order) talking. You just don't go before someone who was here before you, whatever your appointment time is.

So I thought it was just this one doctor. But it's not. Went to the nose-ears-throat doctor, same thing. Even better actually. They told me I could go between two people (it was an emergency, my nose was bleeding like a fountain). So I sat there, and waited, thinking I woudl have to wait 5 minutes. Nope, there were 5 people before me. Insane. So I went again and came back with an appointment this time. I only waited an hour and 15 minutes. That one was tricky though, because they had two waiting areas. One waiting room, with magazines, and then the waiting corridor, where you have to wait another 20 minutes. And see someone who arrived after you actually enter the consultation room before you.

Two doctors could have been a coincidence. But I went to a third (yes, you'll notice that having a baby is a very doctory thing altogether). Same story. I would either get an appointment two weeks from now (again, for something that should really not wait), or come tomorrow between 10.00 and 11.00. Which I did. The waiting room was minuscule and stuffy, and after 40 minutes waiting there, I just felt sick and had to go. Fortunately, that one doctor is across the street from our appartment, so when the receptionist told me "You're on in 30 minutes", I said "ok, I'll come back then". Which I did. To wait another 10 minutes in the entrance and yet another 10 in the doctor's office. Incredible.

Needless to say that in the past few weeks, I have read lots in waiting rooms, and if I have learned one thing, it's that Germans are not all always on time.

2 comments no trackback

Tuesday, November 20 2007

Holy shit! The Church got me.

By notafish on Tuesday, November 20 2007, 10:25

Or where cultural differences have legal roots.

This afternoon, my accountant calls me to tell me that the tax office has finally finished reviewing my tax declaration. And then she asks me this very personal (at least in my books) question: "Are you a catholic?". Now. The reality is, I've been raised in the catholic religion by my parents, went through the whole baptism, communion etc. I had my religious and mystic moments, but they went. As a matter of fact, although I still claim that my "beliefs" (for lack of a more accurate word) are shaped by the catholic religion, I lost faith about 10 years ago. It was abrupt, it was hurtful, also liberating and good. In short, I have not been a *good* catholic in 10 years. I have occasionally gone to church, I still believe in some kind of entity somewhere out there. An agnostic of sorts. But if people asked me: "Do you feel that you belong to the catholic Church today", I would say no. In fact, I tell you, no, I don't. But if people asked me what religion I am, I would probably answer that my beliefs are shaped by catholicism, or even that I am a catholic. Some kind of a cultural background. Problem is, what is really behind this question "What is your religion?"

Well, when I arrived in Germany, I had to register at the local administration. And they asked me what religion I was. I answered catholic. Big mistake, huge. To me, this was in the middle of tens of other questions such as how old are you, where were you born etc. In short, some kind of census information which would be used for statitstics. Nothing more, nothing less. Well no. In Germany, when you say you're a catholic, it has nothing to do with your beliefs, it has to do with your membership. The real question should be "What church are you a member of?". Because once you say you are a catholic, that's it, you're listed as one, receive papers from the local church, the this-and-that journal of the catholic church, in short, you're a member. And, last but not least, the State (yes, the laïc state), actually adds 8% taxes on your income tax at the end of the year, which will be distributed to the catholic church.

Mind you, I learned about that last year, when I did my tax declaration, and my tax adviser already asked me the question and listed the caveats associated with being a catholic in this country. To which of course I answered, I am "without confession", because well, it is the truth. So one year went by. I had no taxes to pay, so nobody really paid attention. This year it seems, there was money to take, so the tax office added those 8% to my total. And I don't want to pay them. Mind you, at this stage, it's not so much about the money, there isn't much to pay. It's about the principle. You see, I come from a country where the separation of State and Church occurred in 1905. And when we mean separation, we really mean separation, it is entrenched in our culture. The Church is on its own. And as a matter of fact, the French Catholic church appeals to its followers to help, through the "denier du culte" and other means to get money. In short, there is no tie between the State and the Church. and certainly no financial tie.

Now, the most interesting thing is, my accountant was trying to convince me that "this is the law". ie. that if I've said once that I am a catholic, I need to get a paper which proves that I am not. In short, you're guilty before you can be innocent. *I* am the one who has to prove that I am member of a church I never entered in the first place (at least in Germany), in order to leave that church. And I was trying to explain to her how shocking this forced membership is to me, and that if anyone had to prove anything, it should be the German State or the German Church which would have to prove that I am, indeed, a catholic and an active member of the Catholic church. I must say that to my French mind, the mere idea that by crossing inadvertently a checkbox one day makes me a life long member of the Catholic church is at best a big mistake, at worst an act of coercition. The joke being, that in Germany, to get "out" of the Church, you need to pay and make a whole lot of administrative steps which finally end up in the deliverance of a piece of paper which confirms that you're out. I am not even sure that exists in France, and even if it does, there is no way I am going to "get out of the Church" that formally, because in my culture, it's a personal choice, as I believe any religion should be, not a legal or tax-bound choice.

The next steps promise to be interesting, since at this stage, I am not sure what I have to do to "get out of it". Stay tuned.

2 comments