By Alex Gordon in Haifa, Israel
I lived and worked in this wonderful French city for many years. It is a very beautiful city, located in a valley at the foot of the Alps and at the intersection of two rivers. It charms with its stunning architecture and magnificent historical character. It is surrounded by snow-capped peaks and green forests.
It has a beautiful historic center with typical old European streets and an impressive number of museums. It is a delightful area of narrow cobbled streets, small charming squares, and beautiful old buildings. It is a very old city—more than 2,000 years old. It is a green city with many parks. There are 14 churches and cathedrals in this city, although over the years it has become less Christian and more Muslim.
Once upon a time, many Jews lived there. Just recently, I learned that there were no more Jews there. It was a city of science, which is why I ended up there, as I am a researcher. I loved this city, but I won’t name it so as not to offend the many other wonderful French cities that I could also have loved if my scientific pursuits had taken me there.
In the late 1980s and early 1990s, remarkable people began arriving in this city. They were my fellow physicists from the crumbling Soviet Union. They were very intelligent people, serious scientists who came to work at the research institute where I worked. These people were excellent specialists in their field, but they had certain characteristics that distinguished them from other foreign scientists who came to work in this beautiful city: they did not speak French, they spoke broken English and excellent Russian. But it is very difficult to live in a French city speaking broken English and excellent Russian. In this city, only French was spoken.
Since I could speak all of the above languages, I became something of a housing commander for these scientists. I negotiated with apartment owners. It is impossible to describe how many amazing people, scientists, and apartment owners I met in this new field for me.
There were many outstanding physicists among Soviet Jews. They worked hard and successfully, but the Soviet authorities rarely allowed them to work abroad. They feared that Jewish physicists would stay abroad to work, that is, they would prefer capitalism to socialism. Jews were considered unreliable Soviet citizens. The authorities suspected them of being drawn to capitalist countries. When the Soviet regime collapsed, Soviet Jewish physicists flocked to the West. They behaved like springs that had been held back for a long time and had finally been released. They came to the West eager to work and earn money in the Western way. I met one such Jewish colleague, eager to go to the West, in my French city.
His name was Professor D. I cannot reveal his name, as the subsequent events are of a purely personal nature and cannot be disclosed. I managed to make a successful deal for him with an apartment owner named Madame P. I cannot reveal her name, as the further events are of a purely personal nature and are not subject to disclosure.
Professor D was a man of about 45, of medium height, balding, corpulent, and devoted to science. He was so focused on his scientific work that he seemed to be a rather absent-minded person. Five days a week he worked at our institute until late in the evening, and on Saturdays and Sundays he worked in the apartment that I had helped him rent. I am not good at determining the age of women. Therefore, I do not know how old Madame P. was. I would venture to say that she was a young woman with strict and seemingly aristocratic manners. She considered herself a subtle psychologist. The deal between them was concluded with many smiles and few words.
Madame P. lived not far from my house, and I sometimes met her on the street. Once she told me that D. did not greet his neighbors, walked around with a sullen, unfriendly face, causing them disappointment with his rudeness. I tried to reassure her, saying that his gloomy and unfriendly face was caused by the fact that D. was always thinking about scientific problems, and that he did not greet anyone because he did not notice them. Madame P. did not accept my explanations and remarked that D. was pas charmant et déplaisant (not charming and unpleasant).
One Sunday, I visited my Jewish colleague’s apartment. We worked hard during the week, but we also met on the weekends. Jews in a foreign country gravitate toward other Jews. At that moment, the landlady, Madame P., arrived. Apparently noticing that D. was at home on Sundays, she suggested that he take a break from his tedious work and visit the city museum dedicated to the great writer Stendhal. She was a very well-read lady and loved to give literary advice. But my colleague asked, “Who is Stendhal?”
Physicists can be very intelligent and knowledgeable people, but they can also be very ignorant. And indeed, why would a physicist need Stendhal? But not knowing who Stendhal was outrageous ignorance and disrespect for France and its culture. Henri Beyle (Stendhal) was a great French writer. Everyone, including visitors to France, was obliged to know him. Shocked by her lodger’s lack of education, Madame P. said that he was pas charmant, déplaisant et boor (not charming, unpleasant, and boorish).
The cult of Stendhal reigned supreme in this city. But madame P. apparently did not know that Stendhal regarded his city as a symbol of provincial life, which was alien to him, that he expressed criticism and sarcasm towards its inhabitants and customs: “Nothing surprised me more in my travels than to hear from officers I knew that … – a charming city, sparkling with intelligence, and that the young women there were simply unforgettable.”
One day, Madame P. came to my apartment and indignantly declared that she had received complaints from several neighbors that my protégé was keeping them awake. It turned out that he took showers at one o’clock in the morning, and the noise from his bathroom pipes could be heard by everyone in the building. Indeed, my beloved city was ancient. Its houses were very old with very good acoustics. Soundproofing did not exist. Flushing the toilet could be heard in the neighboring apartment.
As physicists, we understood that the humming of the pipes was inevitable. Over time, scale and deposits form on them, narrowing the space for water flow and increasing its speed. The presence of air in the pipes leads to water hammer, and poor gaskets can further amplify the noise. Pipes age with a lot of noise. It was impossible to wash more quietly. My colleague made excuses: he worked all day and had to take a shower at night. This explanation did not convince anyone. In my favorite city, rest was treated with sacred reverence. Daytime and summer breaks in the work of institutions, shops, and hotels were long and encouraged rest. D. didn’t know how to relax. He was used to working.
Physics is a field that requires a lot of effort and long hours. Madame P. and her neighbors didn’t accept this explanation. It didn’t fit into their way of life. From pas charmant (not charming), he moved into the sauvage (savage) category. We didn’t know what to do: Russian-style physics was incompatible with French customs. D. stopped showering in his apartment. He did it at the institute. But his neighbors no longer greeted him. He began receiving offensive notes, which I translated into Russian for him. They called him an uncultured provincial. Finally, he exploded and called the neighbors idlers and provincials.
On the day he left the institute and me, D. told me that he thought there was only one secretary at the institute but finally realized that there were there were four. He was mistaken, as these women were very similar to each other: thick lips, smooth black hair, large breasts, and massive behinds. He asked me, “Are they sisters?” “No, they’re not sisters,” I replied. – “But the resemblance isn’t entirely coincidental. When you leave France, you have the opportunity to see that equality and brotherhood truly exist here.”
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Alex Gordon is professor emeritus of physics at the University of Haifa and at Oranim, the Academic College of Education, and the author of 12 books
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