Life Stories

Background: Her father, who had lost a limb due to injury, passed away when she was 21. Her mother supported their family of seven by working as a cashier at an ice rink. Who she is now: Senior journalist at *Paris Match*, France's highest-circulation magazine, and France's "quasi-First Lady." Senior journalist Valérie Trierweiler probably never imagined that the number of times she interviewed others in the first half of her life would be far fewer than the number of times she'd be interviewed in the second half. Resembling classic Hollywood star Katharine Hepburn, Valérie became the globally watched "quasi-First Lady" after her boyfriend, François Hollande, was elected President of France. Hollande was jokingly dubbed by the French public as the "President with Three No's": no experience, no distinctive traits, no wife. Valérie, too, is the genuine "girlfriend with Three No's": no background, no social standing, no patron. Yet, Valérie solemnly told the media, "I'm not Cinderella." She also declared her intention to follow in Hillary Clinton's footsteps to redefine the image of France's First Lady.

While traveling in Turkey, I quickly became fascinated by how Turks would argue endlessly over prices. I often found that in these disputes, the success or failure of the deal mattered more than the actual price itself. One day, at a rural bus station, representatives from two competing tour companies approached me. When I asked one of them about the cost of the journey, he replied, "My bus will cost you 600 lira." But as soon as he finished speaking, the second man immediately stepped forward and said, "Come with me! You only need to pay 500 lira." And so the competition began. The two men went back and forth, arguing intensely, while I stood silently to the side, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.

A large department store in the city had just opened, launching a "Spend 200, Get 100" promotional campaign, and I was browsing the store with great interest. On the second floor, at the small appliances counter, I noticed two fair-haired, blue-eyed, high-nosed foreigners who seemed to be having some trouble. "I know, but, but..." the salesgirl was flustered, her face red, repeatedly muttering this junior-high-level English phrase. The foreigners, holding gift vouchers in their hands, kept pointing at an electric shaver behind the glass case and mumbling unclear English. It turned out they had their eyes on a shaver priced at 95 yuan and wanted to use their two 50-yuan vouchers to cover the cost. However, clearly displayed on the counter was a sign stating: "Only one voucher per purchase."