Bayeux and Normandy Beaches

July 24th, 2018

We spent the past weekend (plus a couple of days) roadtripping around Normandy and Brittany, visiting beaches, wandering down cobbled streets, ascending ancient ramparts, and seeing the artifacts of wars, both recent and long ago.  In many ways, it was a wonderful weekend with activities varied enough to satisfy all of us (Sandy included), but parts of it were also sobering and arresting.  

We started the trip in Bayeux, home to the famous Bayeux Embroidery (also known as the Bayeux Tapestry, although it is not a tapestry).  It is an extraordinary document detailing the events leading up to and including the Battle of Hastings in 1066 in three hand-embroidered friezes and occasional embroidered Latin phrases nearly the length of a football field.  It has been said that history is written by the victor, which undoubtedly has some truth, but seeing these events documented from the Norman perspective emphasized the fact that different narratives can coexist.  In the Bayeux Embroidery, a wronged William had no choice but to send his army to England to conquer the duplicitous Harold after Harold had lied and stolen the crown from him, despite Edward intending for William to accede.  That may not be the standard narrative that one learns in Anglo-Saxon history lessons.  

In any case, the embroidery was beautiful and cleverly structured and absolutely full of details and information.  It was almost a cross between a work of art and a scientific chart or graph.  It was one of the most interesting things I've seen this year.  One disappointment, though:  no photos allowed.  So I will include these stock photos of the Embroidery, along with short descriptions based on my recollection.  

In the first scene, Edward, near death, promises the crown to William.  I believe the second scene below depicts a hurried dinner on the shore of Normandy before William's forces set sail.  In the two battle scenes, the middle frieze depicts the nobility and pageantry of the royalty fighting on horseback---what often is reflected in the history books and in monumental pieces of battle art---while the bottom frieze records some of more galling and shocking aspects of hand-to-hand combat that the foot soldiers would have engaged in.  I find the inclusion of those elements of battle interesting in its own right, but the fact that they are depicted in a parallel narrative in a frieze below the main one is amazing.    

The Bayeux Embroidery is headed to the UK for a long-term loan in a couple of years.  I highly recommend it.  

New Yorker cover from 1944 depicting scenes
from the Battle of Normandy in a style mimicing
the Bayeux Embroidery

Of course the Battle of Hastings is not the only battle that put Normandy on the map.  I am referring, of course, to the D-Day Landing on the beaches of Normandy and the resulting months of battles to recapture parts of France from the Nazis.  We visited several important sites related to those events:  the remnants of the floating port at Arromanches-les-Bains, the intact German gun batteries at Longues-sur-Mer, and the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach.  Hearing the stories of the battles and seeing the rows and rows of headstones was arresting.  War is horrific and there are no winners.  Still, it made me proud to be an American:  proud of the enthusiasm and technical know-how of the American troops, but proud, especially, of their desire to save the world, not just their own country, and to fight for the principles of democracy and freedom over authoritarianism, hatred, and fear.  

A remnant of the floating port beached at Arromanches

The seaside town of Arromanches, with the Normandy bluffs in the distance
and the flags of the liberating forces still flying above

Sandy and Glenn walking towards one of the German batteries

 Finally, I want to add that the towns and countryside of Normandy are beautiful.  Here are some rolling fields near a bluff overlooking the Channel.

   

London Museums

July 19th, 2018

Detail of Parthenon sculpture, British Museum

It seems like ages ago when we were in London, but it's been less than two weeks.  (I guess a lot has happened ....)  I did want to include one additional post on our trip there, though, focusing on visits to the British Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum.

The British Museum holds a special place in my heart because of an oft-told ridiculous family story.  When I was pregnant with Kate, I wanted to take both of the older girls on separate trips before the new baby arrived.  It turned out that I had two business trips planned to interesting locations, New Orleans and Cambridge, England.  So I took Anna to New Orleans (accompanied by my sister Katie) and Caroline to Cambridge and London (accompanied by my Dad).  Both trips were great successes, although perhaps Caroline was more vocal afterwards about her trip.  In particular, she loved the British Museum and spoke often about having seen the Elgin Marbles and the Rosetta Stone.  Anna, it turns out, was a little envious that Caroline had seen the Rosetta Stone and started agitating for a trip to London.  Ok, we told her, we will keep that in mind and try to plan something at some later date.  A new baby is on the way, though, so it might not be for a while.

Several months later, new baby having arrived, Glenn and I decided to attend a conference in Toulouse, France.  We would not have childcare to leave the kids at home, so we decided to make a family trip of it, trading off attendance at the conference.  I was in charge of booking the plane tickets, and let's just say that I was not as mindful of the connections as one might often be when traveling with two small children and a baby.  We ended up with a ridiculous flight that had us changing not just planes but airports in London, with a several-hour layover in between.  Frustrated when I realized it, I was determined to make the best of it.  We would use that opportunity to visit the British Museum!  I will not go into the very complicated logistics of stowing our luggage, traveling into and back out of London, getting from Gatwick to Heathrow, etc., but suffice to say it was a pretty exhausting day.  In the middle of it, though, a delighted young Anna was able to spend several minutes gazing in amazement at the Rosetta Stone.  And we had enough time to squeeze in glances at other impressive Egyptian artifacts, the Elgin Marbles, and sculptures from Easter Island.

So, 15 years later, we revisited the British Museum and enjoyed remembering that crazy day.  The highlight this time, though, was an exhibit of Rodin's sculpture.  He, apparently, was deeply influenced by the Greek sculptures in the British Museum, making many trips there to study them, and this exhibit was conceived to discuss and explain those connections and influences.  (I loved the meta aspect to it:  an art exhibit in the British Museum about the effect that the British Museum had on that art, and, hence, really an exhibit about the power of exhibits and the role of museums.)  

Ancient Greek on left, Rodin on right

Two casts of The Thinker

Detail from The Burghers of Calais

The exhibit touched on the biographic---details of the trips to the British Museum, what Rodin saw, how he reacted.  It also discussed similarities of his work to the ancient Greek in technique and subject, from a more traditional perspective of art criticism.  Finally, it displayed some of his actual tools and explained the sculpting process.

Overall, I thought it was an excellent and educational exhibit.  I hope to make it to the Rodin Museum in Paris before we leave and while this exhibit is still fresh in my mind. 

Below are photos of a few other items we saw at the British Museum that caught my eye, Roman sculpture, a tile with an architectural drawing, and the Lewis Chessmen.

On Sunday, we made a trip to the V&A.  I've always enjoyed that museum as a pure visual experience---full of things that are simply lovely to look at, regardless of how important or famous or intellectually demanding.  One might imagine that such a museum would inspire many photos of their simply lovely collection.  In fact, I hardly took any, for some reason.  Here is one, though, a photo of a tennis costume in an exhibit of women's clothing through the ages.  I liked it, although those green squares would have rendered it ineligible for Wimbledon, I think.  

Diversity, Social Goods Provision, and Performance on the Field

July 17, 2018

In 2014, I published an article entitled "Diversity, Social Goods Provision, and Performance in the Firm."  In that article, I analyzed data from a large firm who had offices in many US and foreign cities.  The data contained information on the diversity of each office (in various dimensions), measures of happiness and esprit de corps of the workers, and measures of the output and efficiency of each office.  The results of the analysis were that the more homogeneous offices were happier, but, crucially, despite being happier, were less productive.  People enjoy working with other people like themselves but the group actually performs better when it is more diverse.  In a draft of the paper---not sure if this example made it into the published version---I used a fictitious baseball team comprised entirely of catchers as an illustration.  They might love getting together over beers to discuss their preferred brand of chest protector or the finer points of catching the knuckler, but on the field, they will be a disaster.  As human beings, we are, perhaps, programmed to prefer those like us, but by allowing or even forcing diversity and integration, we become stronger and better.  (As an aside, for the first and probably only time in my career, a piece of my research was touted by Rush Limbaugh on his radio program.  It is interesting to note, though, that he only mentioned the first of the two results:  fake news by omission.)      

Reuters photo of Les Bleus, accompanying article entitled "Les Bleus are a mini-UN of soccer talent."

I tend to be quite hesitant, as are most researchers, to oversell or over-generalize what are, admittedly, results special and particular to one empirical setting.  This is a blog, though, so I may take the liberty of painting with a slightly broader brush.  And I thought immediately of my results as soon as Les Bleus won the World Cup.  The members of France's national team come from different socio-economic strata, ethnic traditions, and racial backgrounds.  They represent an immigrant-friendly, pluralistic ideal, and they proved themselves the best in the world on the playing field.  I know little about the personal relationships among the players---perhaps they are just as happy with their diversity as their fans are with their on-field results, or perhaps there were frictions or tensions or difficulties associated with their widely differing backgrounds.  In any case, though, one of the enduring stories of this team is that diversity works.  I am deeply saddened that that lesson, one that America arguably taught the world, is now experiencing a skeptical reception there.
     
And the story of my paper, broadly speaking, is two-fold:  Diversity is hard and awkward and unpleasant, perhaps.  If, however, we work past the difficult parts, the payoff---in corporate profits or soccer wins or maybe even economic growth of an entire country---can be great.       

What a Night!

July 16th, 2018

Paris slept late yesterday morning, perhaps recovering from the fireworks at the Eiffel Tower and the Bals des Pompiers from the previous night.  (It was the Fête Nationale, or Bastille Day.)  Or perhaps they were preparing for the all-night celebration that would follow their win over Croatia in the final of the 2018 World Cup.  Whichever it was, Sunday morning was unusually quiet and calm.  

I spent the morning packing boxes.  Kate baked banana bread.  Glenn went running.  We played board games over cheese and crackers at midday.  I had made reservations at a nearby bar to watch the game, and we needed to prepare, though.  So, early afternoon, we all changed into our France soccer jerseys.  We also found a site on the internet which explained all of the chants and jeers and cheers and songs we were likely to hear during the game.  (We decided we would stick to "Allez les bleus," but it was nice to know what to expect.)  At 4:15, we headed over.  By then the streets were full of life, teeming with excited fans rushing to parties or scrambling to find a place to watch the game.  The bleu blanc rouge was everywhere, painted on faces and in hair, wrapped around shoulders and waists, flying from cars, hanging from buildings, signs, scaffolding.  

The bar was packed, of course, with all of the indoor seats with screen views taken, tables spilling out onto the sidewalk, and a sizeable crowd standing behind the sidewalk tables.  There was a wonderful esprit de corps as the pre-game show progressed, everyone excited and happy, if a little tense.  Cheers erupted as the French team was announced, the crowd's favorite being Mbappé.  A stirring (and off-key) rendition of La Marseillaise broke out.  The game was set to begin.

Croatia dominated early and the crowd stilled.  Around minute 18, France broke down field.  An own-goal by a Croatian defender resulted in an immediate wall of sound enveloping us:  cheers, screams, whistles, horns.  The bar was on its feet, everyone cheering, dancing, and hugging.  France was up 1-0!!  

France's fortunes ebbed and flowed over the evening, as did the crowd noise and demeanor.  An almost audible sigh of relief resulted from Mbappé's low, outside strike into the corner to put France up 4-1.  A few minutes after a ridiculous mistake by French goalie Lloris that tightened the game a bit, the whistle blew and France was the world champion!

Celebrations ensued.  And ensued.  And ensued.  We walked the streets of our neighborhood, witnessing the euphoria, for a couple of hours.  We finally made our way back home, falling asleep past midnight to the sounds of honking cars and roving, singing bands of revelers.  

     And here's a little video of the post-game revelry:

Hourra, les Bleus!!

July 11th, 2018

Last night was a great night to be in Paris.  The recent high heat and humidity had broken a bit, and there was the slightest chill in the air.  (Still plenty warm for shorts and short sleeves, though.)  The whole city had an anxious air about it, excited about the France-Belgium World Cup match at 8pm.  I ran some errands in the late afternoon (to acquire some France football jerseys, actually), and I could feel the excitement building on the Metro as 8pm crept closer.  

Glenn's brother Mike and his wife Jesse are visiting now, and we had made plans to take them to one of our favorite restaurants, Semilla, before we knew about the match.  So we went to the restaurant early, hoping we could finish up in time to see the second half.  Dinner was spectacular.  I had a starter made with cherry tomatoes slightly concentrated in the oven, then chilled and served with a tomato water granita.  It was like candy.  Mike and Jesse both ordered the green gazpacho, Glenn had the artichoke ravioli, and Kate had a bean and celery pesto salad, all delicious.  For our main course, we shared two large dishes, a roast turbot served with a lemon-dressed salad of greens and crunchy samphire, and a perfectly-cooked thick steak served with velvety pureed potatoes.  Our waiter, who recognizes us now, suggested a delicious, fruity beaujolais to go along.   

Jesse and Kate

Dessert looked promising, but the game was beckoning.  So we quickly settled up and walked down the street near the restaurant, to find someplace where we could catch a glimpse of a TV screen.  There were a number of bars in the area with large screens, seats and tables spilling out onto the sidewalk, and hangers-on standing behind to watch the game.  We joined the party around 9pm, just in time to see France score the first (and ultimately winning) goal.  Crowds up and down the street, at bars and restaurants, erupted with cheers and songs.  People at private parties on upper floors hung from the balconies over the street and cheered, too.  Celebrations were short-lived as play resumed and nails were bitten.  Chants of "Allez les bleus" (let's go France) could be heard up and down the street.  The crowds grew as the game neared its finish.  

By the end, the street was a pretty international one, with a lot of French there, of course, but many tourists from all over the world joining in to watch and (hopefully) celebrate.  We chatted with a couple of Australians and a group of Americans and overheard conversations in Spanish, French, and Italian.  Everyone was in a jovial mood.  

Luckily, France held on for the victory, with the crowd erupting again as soon as the whistle blew.  This time, however, the celebration was not short-lived.  The cheers and songs and flag-waving and honking and general revelry lasted well into the Parisian night.  

We got some cones of Berthillon ice cream and walked back home, soaking it all in.           

Wimbledon

July 10th, 2018

Friday saw our long-awaited trip to Wimbledon.  The weather was glorious, the grounds were beautiful, the tennis was top notch, and the crowd management was atrocious.  Hmm, that sounds familiar.  Ah yes:

http://pariswiththeellisons.blogspot.com/2018/05/roland-garros.html

And I take back what I said about crowd management at Roland Garros.  

We were able to experience firsthand England's weird fetish with queuing up, as we waited in line (and waited in line and waited in line) for tickets.  We arrived at 7am, were given cards telling us that we were approximately 7000th in line, waited for close to six hours, and then finally gained admission to the grounds a bit after noon.  The Queue (must be capitalized) was civilized and well-run for the most part, but it turns out that six hours is just a long time to be waiting in the sun with limited food and drink options, limited bathroom facilities, and not even a newspaper to read.  We were very pleased to finally make it in.  (My French tennis coach was incredulous.  "Why don't they just sell the tickets on line?"  Good question.  Also, he commented that there was no way you could make 7000 French people stand in an ordered line for six hours.)

One small, tiny, little fraction of The Queue

Once in, we enjoyed seeing several doubles matches and also watched some of Serena Williams' and Gael Monfils' Centre Court matches on a big screen while relaxing on a grassy patch in the shade. 

Middelkoop and Arends, beaten by Americans Bryan and Sock

British mixed doubles team Skupski and Smith

Monroe (US) and Kalashnikova in mixed doubles

Xu, who, with Dabrowski, beat Aoyama and Brady in women's doubles

And, of course, we enjoyed the iconic Wimbledon specialty, strawberries doused in Devonshire cream. 

  

Epic Weekend in London

July 9th, 2018

Just back from a long weekend in London, and what a weekend it was!  London on a typical day feels something like the center of the universe, a crazy mash-up of people from all over the world, looking and dressing in all different ways, and taking advantage of everything the city has to offer:  long walks and boat rides, museums, history, theater, pubs, music, food, people-watching, all from the most traditional to the most avant garde, from the British to the international, from the staid to the wild.  This weekend, however, was especially, well, that.  The summer tourist season had started in earnest, Wimbledon was in full swing, England was in the World Cup, and it was London Pride.  It felt like all eyes were on London, and we just lucked into being right in the middle of it.  

I'll have, perhaps, two or three more posts about our weekend focusing on other aspects, but let me leave you here with a series of photos from London Pride that I hope capture the joy, celebration, and esprit de corps that pervaded the city.