Sleepy Buildings, The Gathering

 

Happy New Year to all of you,

May 2014 be brighter than 2013 in all respects.

Smart Cities and Sustainable Development

In view of the Abu Dhabi Sustainability Week 2014, Masdar has asked bloggers to write about their vision of smart cities and sustainable development. Other contributions can be found on the Masdar Engage page. If you like my words, you will be able to support my application on the website.

“How can cities contribute to the advancement of sustainable development and address issues including water, energy and waste?”

I grew up, studied and worked in big cities from the Western world, where accessing clean water and energy is taken for granted. Mobility and education have never been a problem, and in most cases I only need to walk 5 minutes around my block to reach the first doctor or pharmacy, should I get scared of a little season cold. From birth I have been given chances that actually belong to a few only: education, health, water, energy, employment, transportation.

But I’ve travelled, I learned, I looked around and I listened. I have contemplated these chances and wondered how to use them for the greater good, and change the “I am lucky” into “WE are happy”. I have committed my studies and work into raising awareness, building knowledge, creating technical communications, and doing my best to share what I did not have to earn.

I am not going to preach about climate change here, as the facts are here; but with a majority of the world population living in cities, I believe that redefining the concept of urban development has become a must. 

There is no unique scheme to implement, no “best solution” to apply. Key words to express the goal are numerous: sustainable cities – smart cities – green cities. These concepts express the need to approach urban planning in a systemic way, in which everyone works hand-in-hand to create a new governance approach. Bring around the same table designers, politicians, architects, citizens, representatives of the industry, NGOs, Academia…and let them build our green future together.

Now, beyond terminology, there should be action, intelligent action, to implement change that matters, while respecting cultures, ethnicities and traditional urban structures. This is only possible if one engages in a continuous dialogue and learning process.

Technological connectivity (“e-services” included) and mobility for example are key factors that will only be effective if energy security can be guaranteed at all time. Access to basic social services and education will support community building, only if these communities have the regulatory and financial framework to allow equal access to these services to both girls and boys, women and men, poor and rich. Waste management can become “smart” not only if you help people apply the “R’s” (Reduce, Recycle, Re-use, Rethink, Repair…) but also and mainly if the infrastructure and facilities support waste collection, sorting and transformation. Connecting the environmental, social and economic “bubbles” of sustainability while keeping Brundtland’s definition in mind is a hard work which demands the attention and cooperation from everyone.

Cities connect people, institutions and minds. Of course we can all disagree, but we need to learn from each other and we need to act now. Cities concentrate knowledge and power, and can direct the relationship between urban and rural, reciprocal link that remains vital to guarantee safety and food security. Cities are the witnesses of our history, the carrier of our identities. They are the base to build from, and the obvious future we will experience. They are in a way the best “playground” to innovate, create, react. 

Cher Président

Cher Président,

j'ai pris un peu de temps avant de me décider de t'écrire. Je me suis même demandée si je devais t'écrire en français ou en anglais, sachant que je suis à plus de 6000km de la Capitale. Mais bon, il m'arrive parfois de profiter de toutes les occasions possibles pour pratiquer mon français qui parfois, j'ai l'impression, se détériore à force de ne penser ou ne parler qu'anglais.

Je te tutoie, j'espère que tu ne m'en veux pas? Je me suis dit qu'après tout, comme bon représentant des français et françaises sur le sol français et dans le monde, je dois bien pouvoir m'identifier à toi comme "citoyen normal", aussi Président sois-tu. La normalité, n'était-ce pas l'un de tes mots clé lors de ta campagne? Donc je te tutoie. Un jour peut-être je te vouvoierai. Ou peut-être pas.

Cher Président, si je t'écris cette longue lettre, c'est parce que je me sens mal dans ma peau. Ne te méprend pas, je ne compte pas faire de cette lettre une psychanalyse de ma vie au quotidien ni même un état des lieux de ma santé. Je souhaite juste partager avec toi quelques points qui me dérangent. Parlons franchement, puisque "toi, Président", tu es sensé être l'écoute de tes concitoyens.

Cela va bientôt faire 10 ans que j'ai quitté le territoire français. Je me considère encore comme "jeune diplômée", puisqu'avec mes 5 années d'expérience professionnelle (dont 6 mois de stage non rémunéré à l'étranger et quelques mois de pause involontaire dans mes contrats de travail), on regarder toujours mon Master comme le plus grand de mes accomplissements, alors que depuis j'ai travaillé dans des agences internationales renommées.

Sur ces 5 années, je n'ai jamais payé d'impôts en France. Je te rassure, je n'ai jamais fraudé: j'ai juste habité à 100% hors du territoire français, j'ai travaillé pour des organisations internationales, et j'ai habité dans des régions du monde où si je ne paye pas d'impôts, je risque de perdre mon emploi du jour au lendemain. Je n'ai jamais non plus cotisé pour ma retraite, si ce n'est en mettant de l'ordre dans mes finances privées et en garantissant un train de vie stable et modeste, tout en sachant profiter de la vie.

Mais voilà, Président, de mes 6000 km de distance je continue malgré tout de regarder ce qui se passe "à la maison", et non seulement je suis attristée, mais je me sens aussi parfois insultée. Et ce parce que je continue de m'inclure dans plusieurs cadres que l'opinion générale semble titiller de façon agressive.
Depuis des mois, je lis sans cesse des articles qui demandent pourquoi les jeunes diplômés préfèrent partir de France et s'installer à l'étranger. Tu devrais le savoir, la réponse est pourtant simple: on préfère partir de France et s'installer à l'étranger, 1/ parce qu'il y a du travail, 2/ parce qu'il y a de l'argent ailleurs, 3/ parce que mon diplôme y est reconnu, 4/ parce que j'ai des opportunités de développement professionnel, et 5/ parce que c'est mon choix personnel. Je me permets de développer un peu:

1/ On parle suffisamment du chômage des jeunes, tu dois bien le savoir. Je suis diplômée de Grande Ecole française, diplômée d'une université prestigieuse suédoise. Mais un diplôme chaud dans les poches, en période de crise économique, cela n'aide pas. J'ai peut-être surestimé mes chances (copieusement aidée par des institutions universitaires particulièrement pédantes), mais j'ai pris mon mal en patience. J'ai appris une nouvelle langue, j'ai exercé des petits boulots, j'ai travaillé 6 mois sans être payée.

2/ ...Et tous ces petits sacrifices m'ont appris la (fameuse) valeur-travail, tout en me disant qu'il ne faut pas non plus en abuser trop longtemps.

3/ Je sais bien que faire un Master spécialisé en environnement et développement durable, pour beaucoup, cela veut dire faire des accolades aux arbres, s'enchainer aux rails pour bloquer des convois de déchets nucléaires, ou bien partir se faire des dreadlocks en mangeant vegan. Ne m'en veux pas, mais les clichés parfois en France ont la vie longue, alors j'ai préféré avancer dans des endroits où l'on reconnaît ce que j'ai fait et où l'on donne une chance à mes projets et mes envies.

4/ ...Et autant dire qu'en Scandinavie, et (à la grande surprise de beaucoup), au Moyen-Orient, l'environnement n'est pas le premier budget que l'on va écorcher lorsque cela va mal. Ce n'est pas non plus un sujet de discorde politique  au Parlement, et penser "vert" ne veut pas dire "penser Ecologistes". Si je pense vert, c'est que je pense à l'avenir de mon pays et de ma famille. Pas que je cherche à garantir ma réélection dans les 4-5 ans à venir.

5/ Je suis partie à l'étranger parce que cela faisait partie de mon cursus universitaire, une année Erasmus obligatoire. J'ai découvert un monde académique différent, j'ai fait la fête (un peu trop), et j'ai rencontré du monde (beaucoup). J'ai tellement échangé avec des gens de cultures différentes que j'ai rencontré celui que j'allais un jour épouser. Il n'est pas français, mais il se considère autant que moi comme international plutôt qu'issu d'un pays spécifique. Si je ne suis pas en France, ce n'est pas contre mon pays, mais pour développer un futur tout aussi international pour nous deux et notre future progéniture, qui si tout se passe bien, grandira en parlant au minimum 3 à 4 langues à la maison, et connaîtra autant la Tour Eiffel que la Forêt Noire. Et j'aime cette idée, tout bêtement.

Alors pourquoi m'impose-t-on l'idée que je trahis mon pays, parce que je décide de construire une vie qui me semble plus appropriée tout d'abord pour mes projets individuels, mais aussi pour mes futurs projets de famille?

Il y a 20 ans, lorsque j'ai du choisir ma LV1 puis ma LV2 (le grec ancien en option ne m'ayant pas trop ouvert de portes pour le moment), j'ai pensé à l'avenir. J'ai pensé à l'Europe qui grandissait, alors que l'Euro n'existait pas encore. Le gouvernement poussait les jeunes à partir à l'étranger, et une expérience internationale était le must pour un CV glorieux et un accès aux postes à responsabilités. La francophonie était majestueuse, être "Français à l'étranger" semblait la clé à beaucoup de problèmes.

A l'époque, partir était une fierté - maintenant cela sonne comme une trahison.J'espère que tu comprends où je veux en venir, cher Président.

 Je ne vois pas pourquoi il faudrait se justifier de partir lorsque l'on cherche une vie meilleure, ailleurs. La Nouvelle Frontière, l'Eldorado, tout ça ne se trouve plus en France. Cela ne fait pas de moi ou des autres, pour autant, une mauvaise personne, ou une "anti-France". Mon choix de vie a des avantages, il a aussi des inconvénients que j'assume. Mais je ne comprends pas pourquoi j'en arrive me sentir visée par ces commentaires qui disent qu'il faut participer à "l'effort national" pour remonter la pente et sortir de la crise. Je crois qu'en augmentant les impôts par-ci par-là tu impliques déjà tellement de monde à cet effort-là, et beaucoup n'ont pas besoin d'être passés par mes étapes pour avoir envie de filer par la petite ou la grande porte. Je n'ai pas besoin de te rappeler non plus qu'eux même se sentent trahis, que les sentiments sont réciproques.

Que l'on ne vienne pas non plus me parler de politique par ici. Certes, je n'ai pas voté pour toi. Mais j'ai reconnu suffisamment de fois qu'avec le contexte économique et social actuel, l'autre côté n'aurait peut-être pas pu mieux faire non plus. Agir est une bonne chose; agir dans la bonne direction en est une autre.

Cher Président, si tu veux que tes expatriés, ceux qui véhiculent la francophonie et l'excellence de tes universités, ceux qui ont des idées et qui ne vivent que par l'innovation et la stimulation intellectuelle et économique, rentrent, donne leur les bonnes raisons. Toi, Président, tu en as sûrement plus les moyens que nous.

Cordialement, etc etc.

Ex- housewife?

Since I found a job, many readers told me that the title of my blog is now wrong, outdated: I am not a housewife anymore now that I signed a contract, go to the office every day and cashed my first salary check in.

I've tried then to see if I could find an alternative name or description for myself. Technically speaking I am still a housewife on my visa until I get my official working card with a change of title in my passport. Pfiiuuuu, this gives me a few more weeks to decide.

When I opened this blog I officially stated I was one, but did not want to be. It took me a few months and a lot of unexpected and God-i-wish-all-the-sh*t-had-not-happened kind of changes in my life, to realize what I was, what I was not, and what I wanted. 

But all this also taught me that I could not become a cliché "DXB housewife" anyway, by nature. My brain works in a way that I refuse to be dependent, possibly one of the biggest lessons taught not from life only, but also from my mother. On the other hand I did buy a pair of pink high heels and joined the gym with the hope to turn slimmer like many expats here; but my black flip-flops are generally sufficient to hang out (and the pink shoes are getting dusty).

So what am I finally, here in DXB, if I am not a cliché "DXB housewife"?

• a cliché "expat"? Naeh, I am not sure actually. I don't know the right places to be/to go, I have never been to a Friday party brunch since I moved (more than a year ago), and I still don't know the districts' names and directions.
• a cliché "wife"? Highly possible. And I love being my husband's "one". 
• a cliché "DXB worker"? Not very much. This new job, that I already love much, will allow me to change some mentalities, and being optimistic lately, maybe the world. However it won't help me pay the rent in a one year check to sign in advance.

But maybe this is the magic of starting a new life in such a new place.  Forget your clichés, forget your expectations, forget your misunderstandings: DXB is constantly moving, changing, growing, demolishing, reconstructing. Yet it is absolutely overwhelming and most of the time highly annoying. But compare the City with a living organism:  when it has the strength and favorable environment, it grows. When the resources are limited, growth slows down or stops. When something is wrong, it adapts, it evolves. When something is good, it shines. Ok, it shines a bit too much here, but you got my point, right?

 

 I am not sure what I am exactly considering I am not a real housewife anymore. But one thing is obvious to me at the moment: I can be anything I want to be, and I feel lucky.

 

The Spirit of Ramadan - Part 2

When my husband came back home the other day asking me whether I had finally decided to fast after reading my previous article, I told him that I was not especially looking at food and drink as restrictions, but that I was rather interested in the spiritual aspects of Ramadan.

 

But still, appreciating Ramadan "as a full package" means taking all aspects seriously, including fasting, so I considered my options and my starting points: I cannot manage a day without drinking a lot of water, or I systematically get a headache; I cannot do without a certain amount of caffeine (at least a morning cup of coffee or tea) or I spend the rest of the day yawning; I need to leave my house in the morning with some cereals in my stomach or I get grumpy for the rest of the day.

 

Let's say that I am not making it easy on myself from the beginning and that I seriously look for problems. Let's say also that I am the greatest person to find excuses. So I read and listened, and got suggested to start small and simple: do not eat but keep drinking water and juice. But I also have a voice in mind constantly reminding me that "there's no middle way if you take such decisions: either you do it 100%, or you don't".

 

I tried, and to be honest it did not work that well. Eventually my stomach reminded me I was not prepared for it. However, walking around outside (in the streets or in the public transports) allowed me couple of times to push my limits, mainly because there was just no other choice. I also tried to go for the "less-guilty alternative" (eating a fruit instead of a proper meal) to fill my stomach. But still, this is cheating, and even though there are maybe 10 days left to give it a try, I already appreciate the failure.

 

And then I ended up reading the Pan-Arabian Enquirer, and laughed: I did not expect to get a good lesson from a satirical article.

 

I need here to quote the first lines from this morning's article, "Expat still pretending she’s fasting for Ramadan" :

 

"DUBAI: Despite having given up her efforts to fast less than two hours into the first day of Ramadan, Suzie Bramble is still attempting to convince colleagues that she’s going without food or drink during daylight hours.

“I just feel so spiritual inside, like my body and soul are going through a deep cleansing session,” the 35-year-old British expat explained to co-workers in the Dubai offices of MPK Financial Services while on her way to the bathrooms with her pockets stuffed with biscuits. "

 

Yes, I did say in my previous post that I started "embracing the Spirit of Ramadan"; now I just feel like hiding until Eid. I do not like pointing at people, and I just cannot throw the first stone at others when I feel that stupid. Well done, Mr. Enquirer: I got your lesson, and finally listened to the voice in my mind.

 

But let me defend myself at least one last time: I will probably not fast this year or any in the future; however I'll keep on thinking about Ramadan in general,about the Friday  sermons, about food waste on iftar, about traffic hell on Ramadan hours, about peace and quiet at the gym, and about the Iftar dinner at the Burj-Al-Arab on Friday.

 

The Spirit of Ramadan

 When i was small, Ramadan was synonym of trouble.

Raised in a highly old-fashion neighbourhood in Paris, and even though it was only 20 years ago, I can tell you there were not that many Muslims in the district. At this time, Ramadan had no spiritual meaning to us: it mainly meant that our neighbours upstairs would get a lot of visitors, make smelly food and party all night long, and that us little white kids would not sleep much for a month. No need to say that it would "get worse" during winter when night was longer than day. To summarize, let's say that, by then, there was no real cultural exchange and knowledge sharing, and that the respect and community spirit you would expect on this month were non-existing.

And then the father of the family passed away because of cancer. We never heard the family party again, but instead they got a bird that would sing in the courtyard each morning.

I moved to Dubai a year ago, a  few weeks before Ramadan started. Again, for a newcomer in the region, this month was a tough one. Even though I was working from home, once in a while I was going in and out the house by 45°, without having the right to even drink a drop. Once I even almost fainted in the elevator, due to heat shock. Poor newcomer I was.

And then something happened this year. Like a spiritual, cultural epiphany whose source I cannot really identify. This year, I think I've learned more about traditions, about daily stages, about prayers. Even though I had learned much from Muslim friends and colleagues in the past years, I think that this year especially I opened my heart and my mind like never. The events of the past weeks possibly had an impact on my "spiritual opening". But being curious about local traditions probably made the change.

 

Newspapers in the region cover Ramadan on a daily basis. First they review the moon sighting and lessons from astrologists; then they develop the do's and don'ts that people should respect, especially expats; then a great share covers diet practices (how to loose weight, how not to jump on food on Iftar etc...); the rest covers crazy driving and accidents. Each Friday, you can read in English a statement from the prayer sermon; during Ramadan the sermon expands its message to all days.

 

I do believe that things can make sense if you want to embrace them through another filter. Ramadan is a month of peace, sharing, understanding, forgiveness. Fasting is not about restricting yourself to listen to religious dictatorship; it gives you on the contrary an idea of what others might experience, and what you have "in extra" in your life. In the past days I've considered fasting as well and see what I could gain from it on the spiritual level. I am spending most of the day on water and juice, but don't eat until my body reaches its limits, even though it's still daylight, and especially when walking under 45°.

 

After all, it is just the contrary of my childhood's experience. I just had no idea by then that I would embrace a religion myself and one day compare it to Islam. Growing up sometimes gives you a better understanding of what goes on around you.



Grey

I consider myself a “grey” person.

You’re wondering why I picked this colour, although I generally wear blue, or white, or pink on a daily basis?

One can argue (or agree) that grey is the right compromise between my fairly pale skin tone mixed with the potential of darkness my mind can develop (not even talking about my teenage favourite style of music, the make-up and the insomniac lines around my eyes). My blue eyes sometimes turn grey, depending on the light and the emotions.

I consider myself a “grey” person because I was raised and trained to develop critical analysis and reach consensus. To me, nothing is black or white: even though I can get fairly enthusiastic about one side or the other of a story, I need to consider black and white before deciding. That also means that I sometimes decide NOT to decide, which is often perceived as a weakness. I on the other hand call it “understanding the big picture”.

I was proposed a few times to engage in politics. But as the happiest devil’s advocate, I just smiled as an answer. I was asked many times about my opinion on societal matters. I bail and refer my interlocutor to different articles. I am the best alibi you could pick to hide yourself against anything: not that I am a liar, but I will consider the options and behave accordingly.

I live in a place now where cultural exchanges thrive, as much as subsequent misunderstandings, clichés, fears. I’ve been through a lot of phases in the past months, where I empowered these misunderstandings, clichés and fears, but not against the other but rather against myself.  After a year in the region however, I’ve washed all of the above to embrace the blue of the sky, the yellowish orange of the sand, and the grey of my mind.

And for those wondering whether I feel grey because I’ve enjoyed “50 Shades…”, nope I haven’t read it and don’t ever plan to do so. Unless I decide to apply my grey matter for science. Who knows.