In the past, when asked to pick three adjectives to best describe myself, I very rarely picked "athletic/sporty." I have no idea why not because I have spent nearly all of my free time since 1998 playing sports. Beyond that, I have defined myself by participation in athletic activities at almost every stage of my life.
In high school, I was a runner. Three seasons of the year, I was on a track, in the woods, or on a road course. My dad and brothers were all big into running at the time and there was no way I was going to get left out of all the fun. I later realized that I don't even really like running all that much but I just happened to be kind of good at it and being kind of good at something gets people to notice you. Guess who the middle child in the family is!
College was all about Ultimate Frisbee. We spent so much time practicing and hanging out after practice that I didn't know anyone outside of Frisbee. If I met someone in a class and thought they were cool, I would try to convince them to play Frisbee because I wouldn't see them otherwise. Despite the stereotypes, I think the handful of hippies/stoners on the team were more a result of attending Ithaca College than playing Ultimate. For the most part, we were all transplants from other sports: former basketball, track, or soccer players looking for something different. And playing a co-ed sport as a single girl was definitely one of the better decisions I made in college. *WINK!*
When I moved to Baltimore, I was miserable the first year, and not due to the struggles of being a first year teacher; I missed being on a team. My boyfriend at the time played for the local men's rugby team and encouraged me to join the women's side. I didn't know the first thing about rugby but they welcomed me with open arms and turned my into a lean, mean, try-scoring machine. Playing with Chesapeake brought so many amazing people into my life and they are what I miss most about Baltimore. And when rugby wasn't in season, I always needed something else to get me up and running around: I met Jason playing softball with BSSC. I took up pole dance fitness a couple years ago and now I am completely addicted. I guess if you're going to be hooked on something I guess working out is a good one.
I say all that to say that my recent web browsing yielded some potentially positive results: I may have found a rugby team. They are the Lionnes du Stade Bordelais and I would sell my kidney on E-Bay to play for them. They may be a step or two above my level but that makes them even more magical in my eyes. I Facebook stalked them and found out they were having their "swimsuit" calendar release event at a club downtown last night. (I totally think we should have done a calendar fundraiser for Chessie. Am I the only who thinks this is a great idea??) Like a real creeper, I showed up and was like "I want to play for your team!" The girl selling calendars was really nice and speaks a lot of English so she introduced me to the coach, who invited me to come out to practice any time to try out. She also introduced me to this girl who plays for the French women's national team when she's not hanging out with the Lionnes.
I bought a calendar and had her sign it. Yup.
Even though I have been playing sports since I was 15, I have never had to try out for a team so that makes me nervous. Am I good enough to make it? What if I get cut? I think they have a B-side. What if I'm not good enough for the B-side?? Mylène told me about a student club she used to play for and I'm sure they are just a walk on team but I emailed them and haven't heard anything back. Their website is hella old, so maybe I just have to show up but I don't know when or where they have practice. Or if they even have practice...
Really, I just want something that will be an avenue toward making French friends. I am embarrassed to admit that in all of my travels all over the world, I have exactly ONE foreign friend and he was introduced to me by someone else. In 12 years of international travel, including an entire semester abroad, I haven't managed to make a single friend in another country and remain friends with them after returning to the US. Pathetic. I guess this is what happens when you go to language centers. Of course I'm not going to meet French people if all I take are French language classes...
But when I think about friends I have made in my adult life, I realize that a very significant number of them have come from my sports teams. Those are the people that I know I could call if I find myself in their current city and they would let me crash on their floor. They are the people that email you silly videos because they know you'll appreciate them. They are the people that purposely look for tournaments/events in your area so they have a reason to visit. That's what being on a team is about and that's why I have to make it on this team.
I just have to.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
FAQs (About France, Not Me) Part 1
Whenever I talk to someone back home, they always have a million questions about what life in France is really like. This is my first attempt at answering those questions. I think it will be very interesting to see how my responses might change when I've been here a bit longer...
"How's the weather?"
Since Bordeaux is pretty close to the Atlantic coast, the weather is quite mild. In fact, it's not really that different from the weather in Baltimore right now: Cold and rainy. It seems to rain in short bursts here and then it will be sunny for a moment, tricking you into believing you can leave the umbrella at the house. Don't be fooled. It will rain some more later. I am told it doesn't usually get cold enough for snow, and if it does, the snow doesn't stick around for very long. This is a shame in my opinion, but I guess I can just hop over to the Pyrenees or the Alps if I need a fix.
"How's the food?"
I'll tell you when I actually eat some! It's hard being a single girl in France with broke friends because you never have the chance to go out and get real authentic French cuisine. Some people like going to restaurants alone but I'm not a fan of it myself. What I do know is that many restaurants here do prix fixe menus, both for lunch and dinner. I have peeked at a couple places and it seems pretty pricey to go out for a nice meal (15€ for lunch, 35€ for dinner) but from what I've heard, it's worth it.
I am obviously not starving to death, though: I have become a regular at the local supermarket. Jason and I got in the habit or "shopping the perimeter" at the grocery store (all the perishable items are on the outside since there is such a high turnover of products) and I do the same here. The produce is very fresh and most of it is local, which keeps costs way down. 5kg bag of potatoes for 99¢? Yes I will! Four big tomatoes for 64¢? Of course! 43¢ for a loaf of French bread? Don't mind if I do! Pretty sure that potato leek soup I made cost like than 25¢ per serving. What?!?!??
And the dairy products... First of all, milk comes in opaque plastic bottles and you don't have to refrigerate it until after opening. They have all types of puddings and yogurts, including a whole section just for different varieties of plain yogurt. I have already described the endless amounts of cheese that you can purchase and there are more types of butter than I even knew existed: partial salt, full salt, sweet, semi-sweet, high fat, low fat, medium fat... The list goes on. I usually get overwhelmed and just pick the store brand, conveniently labeled "le moins chére" (the least expensive).
Pastries! There are so many pastries! All sorts of sweet, buttery breads, stuffed or sprinkled or glazed with the most delicious things you can imagine. I'm a sucker for the standard "pain au chocolat": Basically a rectangular chocolate filled croissant. If you get the fancy kind, they have a light glaze on top that makes me cry tears of joy.
As an aside, I have been really tearing it up in the kitchen lately. That's usually Jason's territory but I guess we have been making meals together long enough that I actually know some stuff about cooking now. Some recent culinary feats include: honey balsamic glazed salmon with broccoli and rice, steamed vegetables and chicken with homemade beurre blanc sauce, mushroom/spinach/goat's cheese omelette with home fries and, my favorite so far, accidental jambalaya. I made Mexican last night and had tons of leftover rice and beans. (Cooking for one is nearly impossible!) I don't have a microwave so I have to reheat everything on the stovetop, which is kind of annoying when you hate washing dishes. I had already planned on making something with this sausage I had purchased when I suddenly realized I was splash of chicken broth away from making a tasty bayou-inspired lunch. Epic.
"How are the French people?"
Maybe people were just trying to prepare me for the worst with horror stories about how rude the French are, but I have had extremely positive experiences with them so far. If I'm running to catch the tram, someone always holds the door for me. If I catch someone's eye while walking down the street, 8 times out of 10 the person will actually speak to me instead of being suddenly fascinated with the color of their own shoelaces. Dudes let Ashely bum (multiple!) cigarettes off them, even after she tells them about her boyfriend. I feel like everyone I have encountered has been genuinely interested in helping me or at least getting me to someone who could. When I tell people I'm from the United States, they don't automatically turn their noses up and walk away from me. In fact, most people think it's pretty neat that I chose to come to France and they think it's fun to try out the corny phrases they learned in high school English class. Is this true of everyone in the country? Certainly not. I'm sure there are some people that downright hate Americans. Luckily, I haven't met them yet. I think the French think about us about as much as we think about them, which isn't really that often, and we both have positive and negative things to say about each other. Thus is the way of the world.
"What's the biggest difference between the Baltimore and Bordeaux?"
Umm... that they speak French here and not English? I think a lot of the reason I am assimilating so quickly is because living here is not really that much different from living in Baltimore. It's definitely cleaner here. I remember that being hard to get used to when I lived in Baltimore, especially coming from the eco-friendly capital of the universe that is Ithaca, NY. And the public transportation is actually something that people choose to use, rather than are forced to use so it's less filled with people who hate their lives. Bordeaux is more diverse than I thought it would be. Certainly not to the degree of Baltimore, but there are lots of different shades of brown people here. I guess it's kinda weird that you can drink anywhere. When it's party time, people are drinking on the train, in the street, on the way to bar... The rest of time, you might see it, too, but people aren't getting shitfaced on the tram in the middle of the day JUST BECAUSE THEY CAN. You could, certainly, but why would you want to? And it's mostly young people, since this is pretty much a college town. You don't see old dudes knocking back 40s in the park at 2pm.
I know it was sometimes inconvenient to find a liquor store that was open on Sunday, but here, it's hard to find anything that's open on Sunday. As the rugby song says, Sunday is the Lord's day, so I suppose everyone is busy doing holy things, but it's weird that even the mall is closed on Sunday.
"What's the biggest difference between the US and France?"
People are less apologetic here. I feel like Americans are so quick to say "Sorry!!!" for everything: I'm sorry my coat brushed you knee. I'm sorry I dropped my bookmark in front of you. I'm sorry for making contact with you on the crowded bus. Unless you really slam into somebody, don't expect so much as a pardon. You live in a place where lots of other people live. It is expected that you will make physical contact with someone else. This is not worthy of regret. Save your sorries for when you're actually sorry. I think this corroborates the "French People are Rude" stereotype but I don't mind it. It makes me think of the opening monologue from the movie Crash...
I also find the French to be very straightforward. Again, this may come off as abrasive, pushy, or mean, but I find it rather refreshing. I appreciate that people aren't going to dance around, trying to be perfectly PC all the time, and instead say what they really think. Is it always going to be something I want to hear? Probably not, but I'd rather you say whatever you have to say so that we know where we both stand. And if I really don't like what you have to say, then I don't have to pretend to like you. We're not going to agree and that's okay!
French bureaucracy is every bit as obnoxious as they say it is. Just to rent an apartment, you have to have a French "guarantor" to basically co-sign on your lease in case you default on your payments. This might not be so hard for a citizen who knows plenty of French people, but it makes it extremely difficult for a foreigner trying to find independent housing for a year or two. Every transaction requires three receipts and a million signatures and all kinds of proof that you're sure you know what you're doing. Just to get in the country, Jason has to get his birth certificate translated by a member of the American Translator's Association, at a hefty price, of course. And there are so many different offices that deal with so many different things and none of them can contact any of the other offices so if you're in the wrong place, too bad, try again in three weeks. Thankfully, I haven't had too much experience with it yet but I have applied for government housing aid and a residence permit so I am sure I'm about to get wrapped in paperwork with a nice red tape ribbon on my head.
Overall, this place has been pretty good to me so far. Maybe my mind will change in a few months when all I want is a DAMN BAGUETTE I THOUGHT THIS WAS FRANCE some Sunday down the road but I'll keep you posted.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Thankful
Yesterday was Thanksgiving and in the spirit of the holiday, I have several things that I am thankful for that I would like to share with all of you. I ask that you please forgive the sappiness.
I am thankful for this amazing opportunity to live in Bordeaux and experience another way of life. It's fascinating the way living in another culture can teach you so much about your own. I think that you find your truest self in times of great challenge, and this will certainly be a challenge, but it's one I am excited to take on. I am thankful for Jason being the catalyst for this whole experience. I can't imagine anyone better with whom to share the adventure. He is my partner in crime, my teammate, my lover and my best friend, and I am grateful every single day to have him in my life.
I am thankful for Baltimore City Schools giving me a hefty raise last year so that I could save up enough money to make this trip possible. I am thankful for my former students for keeping in touch and reminding me why I got into teaching in the first place. I love every one of them and I am proud to have played a small part on their paths to adulthood. I am thankful for my fellow teachers who continue to fight the good fight and inspire young minds all over the world.
I am thankful for Mylène, my French teacher, who sees my potential before I can see it myself. She has encouraged me to look into other schools because I am already at the highest level they offer and she thinks I will be well beyond it very soon. "It's not exactly a best practice to send people away from your school, but I think you could do better for yourself. If you want to become a really good French teacher, you're going to need more than we can offer you here. Let me know if I can help." I am thankful for her recommendation for a rugby team I might like to play with in the coming season. !!!
I am thankful for Hong Li for telling the rest of our French class about the story of Thanksgiving when I lacked the words. Even if it's a bit fictitious and we later went on to murder a bunch of Native Americans, it is still nice to think that this whole day is supposed to be about lending a hand to those in need and being grateful for the generosity of others.
I am thankful for Hunter, who has been absolutely invaluable in helping me get settled here. From being my tour guide, to being the liaison between me and the other Chinese people on campus, to being my favorite Aretha Franklin impersonator, he has made me feel so at home here.
I am thankful to Ashley and Guillem for inviting me into their home last night for the closest thing to a real American Thanksgiving meal as one can muster in France. Even if our turkey was breast slices rolled up like a Ho-Ho and our cranberry sauce was made from Craisins, we ate well and had a wonderful evening. I even managed to pull off my mother's apple crumb pie FROM SRATCH. Even made my own pie crust.
I am thankful for my years in college that taught me when enough was enough so that I didn't end up like the girl in the bar last night, who was too drunk to stand up, had peed on herself, and had ripped a giant hole in her very expensive-looking black stockings. I am thankful for my friends who, unlike her friends, would have immediately rushed me home if I were even approaching that level of intoxication, so that I would not completely embarrass myself. And I don't care if it's the school's mascot, putting a panda hat on her while she slumps in a semi-conscious state on the couch is just rubbing salt in the wound.
I am thankful for Google Hangout/Skype because they have allowed me to keep in touch with my friends and family back home. In addition to our Thanksgiving gathering here in Bordeaux, I got to spend time with the Bayer family in Waynesboro and my parents in Rochester, all in the same evening. Impossible in real life, totally doable with video chat. And yes, I know it's not quite the same as actually being there, but it's definitely the next best thing.
I am thankful for Babylangues, even though they kinda upset me on Tuesday, because today they offered me a job! No specifics yet, but they are coming soon... I am thankful for Skype interviews because I can wear pajama pants and still get a job. (Don't worry, I wore a blazer on top and even did my make-up.)
Finally, I am thankful for Thanksgiving because it reminds us all to take a moment out of our lives and think about all the things we have to be thankful for. Whether you can only come up with a handful of things or you have a list as long as your arm, we all have something or someone that deserves our gratitude. And by the way, you don't have to wait until November to give thanks.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
I am thankful for this amazing opportunity to live in Bordeaux and experience another way of life. It's fascinating the way living in another culture can teach you so much about your own. I think that you find your truest self in times of great challenge, and this will certainly be a challenge, but it's one I am excited to take on. I am thankful for Jason being the catalyst for this whole experience. I can't imagine anyone better with whom to share the adventure. He is my partner in crime, my teammate, my lover and my best friend, and I am grateful every single day to have him in my life.
I am thankful for Baltimore City Schools giving me a hefty raise last year so that I could save up enough money to make this trip possible. I am thankful for my former students for keeping in touch and reminding me why I got into teaching in the first place. I love every one of them and I am proud to have played a small part on their paths to adulthood. I am thankful for my fellow teachers who continue to fight the good fight and inspire young minds all over the world.
I am thankful for Mylène, my French teacher, who sees my potential before I can see it myself. She has encouraged me to look into other schools because I am already at the highest level they offer and she thinks I will be well beyond it very soon. "It's not exactly a best practice to send people away from your school, but I think you could do better for yourself. If you want to become a really good French teacher, you're going to need more than we can offer you here. Let me know if I can help." I am thankful for her recommendation for a rugby team I might like to play with in the coming season. !!!
I am thankful for Hong Li for telling the rest of our French class about the story of Thanksgiving when I lacked the words. Even if it's a bit fictitious and we later went on to murder a bunch of Native Americans, it is still nice to think that this whole day is supposed to be about lending a hand to those in need and being grateful for the generosity of others.
I am thankful for Hunter, who has been absolutely invaluable in helping me get settled here. From being my tour guide, to being the liaison between me and the other Chinese people on campus, to being my favorite Aretha Franklin impersonator, he has made me feel so at home here.
I am thankful to Ashley and Guillem for inviting me into their home last night for the closest thing to a real American Thanksgiving meal as one can muster in France. Even if our turkey was breast slices rolled up like a Ho-Ho and our cranberry sauce was made from Craisins, we ate well and had a wonderful evening. I even managed to pull off my mother's apple crumb pie FROM SRATCH. Even made my own pie crust.
I am thankful for my years in college that taught me when enough was enough so that I didn't end up like the girl in the bar last night, who was too drunk to stand up, had peed on herself, and had ripped a giant hole in her very expensive-looking black stockings. I am thankful for my friends who, unlike her friends, would have immediately rushed me home if I were even approaching that level of intoxication, so that I would not completely embarrass myself. And I don't care if it's the school's mascot, putting a panda hat on her while she slumps in a semi-conscious state on the couch is just rubbing salt in the wound.
I am thankful for Google Hangout/Skype because they have allowed me to keep in touch with my friends and family back home. In addition to our Thanksgiving gathering here in Bordeaux, I got to spend time with the Bayer family in Waynesboro and my parents in Rochester, all in the same evening. Impossible in real life, totally doable with video chat. And yes, I know it's not quite the same as actually being there, but it's definitely the next best thing.
I am thankful for Babylangues, even though they kinda upset me on Tuesday, because today they offered me a job! No specifics yet, but they are coming soon... I am thankful for Skype interviews because I can wear pajama pants and still get a job. (Don't worry, I wore a blazer on top and even did my make-up.)
Finally, I am thankful for Thanksgiving because it reminds us all to take a moment out of our lives and think about all the things we have to be thankful for. Whether you can only come up with a handful of things or you have a list as long as your arm, we all have something or someone that deserves our gratitude. And by the way, you don't have to wait until November to give thanks.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Pretty Quiet Around These Parts
Nothing too earth-shattering happening in Bordeaux lately. Classes are still going well. We're doing a unit on the press right now so we're watching the news and reading newspapers, which is really difficult, but both are great ways to learn new words. I still haven't worked up to radio yet. That mess is impossible.
It's starting to feel a bit more wintery here. The mornings are quite cold and there's frost on the grapevines. Even though I haven't lived in Rochester/Ithaca for years now, I often think of how early the winters there started and I feel a bit ashamed about complaining when it's 45 degrees in November. Halloween is snowed out with regular occasion back home. Stop whining.
I keep forgetting that Thanksgiving is this week. Obviously, they don't celebrate an American holiday in France but it's one of my favorites and I kind of miss all the hype around Turkey Day. It gets me geared up to smash some tasty food and play euchre with my grandfather, who has nearly lost all of his hearing, but will still talk shit and promptly trounce your amateur ass. This year, I will be spending most of the day in class and then meeting up with the only Americans I know here to have a little meal. I am in charge of the apple pie. I have helped my mother make a thousand of these over the course of our lives but this will be my first attempt solo. Wish me luck.
Thanksgiving also means Black Friday shopping insanity back home. I can't say that's one of the things I miss. Maybe it's because I don't have a TV or maybe it's just not a big deal here, but I don't really feel like the pressure is on yet to get your holiday shopping done. It's kind of refreshing. I find Christmas shopping to be incredibly stressful. Who do I need to get gifts for? How much should I spend? Can we give something from the both of us? What if they get me something and I didn't get them anything? Does he want something thoughtful or something practical? Ugh.
I was supposed to have an interview for that Baby-langues job today but they had to cancel at the last minute. Annoying. We're rescheduling but I was ready today. I put on heels and pearls, people.
Three things I'd like to make note of:
Something that seems scary at first but is awesome the more you learn about it: Moving to another country by yourself.
Something that seems awesome at first but is scary the more you learn about it: Planning a wedding.
I am curious what the French think of me and my Asian friends: "Voilà, les chinois et la noire... Très bizarre." It's like that one white guy in a group of blacks dudes. Always makes you do a double take.
Today, a biracial American girl living in France made Mexican food for dinner. If that's not being a global citizen, I don't know what is.
Next time: Giving thanks
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Assorted Thoughts from the Weekend
1) I really love going out on the weekend and having some (many) (maybe too many?) drinks with friends, but it has been so nice to just sit in the house and do other stuff for the last two evenings. I have been reading, cooking, doing research on housing and potential options once my classes are over... I don't want to do it forever but I am really enjoying it for the time being.
2) I am feeling incredibly fortunate to have friends and family back home to hang with via the magic that is video chatting, especially since I'm a bit lacking in the friend department here. Google Hangout is probably the best invention ever. A quartet of women in completely different parts of the world can all get together on a Sunday morning and have coffee together as if they're all in the same city. I saw five friends, my parents, my niece and my fiancé at some point during this very average weekend when typically, that group would only be in the same place for some very special occasion. Priceless.
3) Have you ever cooked with leeks? I looked up easy stove top recipes (because Lord knows I am not the culinary genius in our household) and potato leek soup came up. I had to google what a leek looked like so I could buy one at the store and a leek as tall as my torso cost me 27 cents at Auchan. Insanity! Equally insane is how tasty this soup is. If you have other good stove top recipes, let me know!
4) I went to the laundromat for the first time in my life. I am not a fan. I spent almost $15 getting my clothing washed. That's ludicrous!
5) It took me several tries to spell the word "ludicrous" because I kept wanting to spell it "Ludacris." I really like that guy. I find his raps to be clever and hilarious.
6) I saw a dude doing the Lexington Market on the train the other day and my fellow passengers looked absolutely appalled. I wanted to say, "Yeah, heroine will do that to you but don't worry. Junkies wobble but they don't fall down."
That is all.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Discovering Downtown Bordeaux
When I first arrived at my residence, I was a little disappointed. The place itself was about what I had expected, but after all the time I had spent in European cities, I was a little surprised by how modern the surrounding neighborhood was. Modern is fine and all, but I was expecting quaint cafés on every corner and people selling baguettes in the streets. Where are the cathedrals? Where are the ruins? Don't they have plazas/piazzas in France?
They do. They're just downtown. I found them.
Hunter had taken me on a brief tour around town after school on Tuesday and I got my first glimpses of the city. It was everything I had hoped for and more. For every major street, there were a dozen little side streets shooting off in every direction, holding hidden gems of restaurants and shops. There were fountains and parks and promenades. Everything had that feeling that is so distinctly European: this has been around since before your country was even a country. It felt familiar and foreign all at the same time and it was wonderful.
He took me by the ruins of an amphitheater left over from the Roman Empire. They are basically in the backyard of a residential building. What?!? In my back "yard" in Baltimore there are tangled power lines and rats that could take down one of those yappy ankle biting dogs. We went to the transit office so I could purchase a pass that allows me to ride any tram or bus unlimited times a day, every day for a year. A lot better than paying 1.40 euros for every trip. We grabbed kebab from a little hole in the wall down a narrow side street. We passed through the ritzy shopping district, Bordeaux's 5th Avenue. We even made a quick stop in the Cathédral St. André.
If you have never been in a real European cathedral, you don't know what you're missing. I am almost the opposite of religious and I am still incredibly humbled when I visit these massive structures. I instantly get this feeling that I am so small and so are my problems so I should appreciate what I've got and not stress about what I don't. I try to live by that mantra daily but it's just so much more apparent when you're about the size of one of the thousands of bricks used to build this place...
Since I didn't have class yesterday, I went back downtown to do a little more exploring and this place just gets better and better. Got off at the Cathedral and wandered around toward the Grand Théatre, the opera house in the heart of the city. I discovered the Monument aux Girondins, dedicated to some assemblymen who were executed and became political martyrs and symbols of the republic. Just past the monument is the Garrone River and it reminded me so much of the Rio Gadalquivir in Sevilla. It was stunning. More government buildings, nice fountains, random grassy knolls for picnicking... Perfectly picturesque. I found Rue Sainte Catherine, which is a giant pedestrian commercial area with all kinds of stores and restaurants that Rick and Steve had told me about before. There's tons of stuff off Ste. Catherine, as well. I walked the length of the street and finally ended up in Place de Victoire, which is where all the bars and nightlife is. It was pretty calm but it was only 5:00 so I made a mental note to revisit when I have some friends to go out with.
All in all, it was a delightful little adventure and left me thirsty to get to know this city better. I can't wait.
Oh yeah! Pictures! (The abridge version from facebook)
They do. They're just downtown. I found them.
Hunter had taken me on a brief tour around town after school on Tuesday and I got my first glimpses of the city. It was everything I had hoped for and more. For every major street, there were a dozen little side streets shooting off in every direction, holding hidden gems of restaurants and shops. There were fountains and parks and promenades. Everything had that feeling that is so distinctly European: this has been around since before your country was even a country. It felt familiar and foreign all at the same time and it was wonderful.
He took me by the ruins of an amphitheater left over from the Roman Empire. They are basically in the backyard of a residential building. What?!? In my back "yard" in Baltimore there are tangled power lines and rats that could take down one of those yappy ankle biting dogs. We went to the transit office so I could purchase a pass that allows me to ride any tram or bus unlimited times a day, every day for a year. A lot better than paying 1.40 euros for every trip. We grabbed kebab from a little hole in the wall down a narrow side street. We passed through the ritzy shopping district, Bordeaux's 5th Avenue. We even made a quick stop in the Cathédral St. André.
If you have never been in a real European cathedral, you don't know what you're missing. I am almost the opposite of religious and I am still incredibly humbled when I visit these massive structures. I instantly get this feeling that I am so small and so are my problems so I should appreciate what I've got and not stress about what I don't. I try to live by that mantra daily but it's just so much more apparent when you're about the size of one of the thousands of bricks used to build this place...
Since I didn't have class yesterday, I went back downtown to do a little more exploring and this place just gets better and better. Got off at the Cathedral and wandered around toward the Grand Théatre, the opera house in the heart of the city. I discovered the Monument aux Girondins, dedicated to some assemblymen who were executed and became political martyrs and symbols of the republic. Just past the monument is the Garrone River and it reminded me so much of the Rio Gadalquivir in Sevilla. It was stunning. More government buildings, nice fountains, random grassy knolls for picnicking... Perfectly picturesque. I found Rue Sainte Catherine, which is a giant pedestrian commercial area with all kinds of stores and restaurants that Rick and Steve had told me about before. There's tons of stuff off Ste. Catherine, as well. I walked the length of the street and finally ended up in Place de Victoire, which is where all the bars and nightlife is. It was pretty calm but it was only 5:00 so I made a mental note to revisit when I have some friends to go out with.
All in all, it was a delightful little adventure and left me thirsty to get to know this city better. I can't wait.
Oh yeah! Pictures! (The abridge version from facebook)
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| Roman ruins |
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| Cathédral St. André |
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| Cathédral St. André |
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| Gate to the old part of the city |
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| Hôtel de Ville |
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| Cathédral St. André |
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| Monument aux Girondins |
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| Grand Théatre |
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| Monument aux Girondins |
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| La Garrone |
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| La Bourse |
It's Okay. It's Not a Racial Slur in Chinese.
Coming to France, I expected to feel a bit out of place. My friends who had spent some time in France warned me that I may experience rudeness, racism, and/or general distaste for Americans. I was prepared to deal with this. I am usually pretty good at blending in because I try to dress like the locals and my skin color doesn't automatically give away my race. (I mean, I think it does, but it fools a lot of people. "Oh... I thought you were Dominican or Puerto Rican or something.") On three separate occasion this past week, I had French people approach me and ask if I knew where something was around town. I am a cultural chameleon!
I was not prepared to be in the only non-Chinese person in my class. And of all the levels of French classes, there are only three people total who are not Chinese. Yeah, I was surprised by this, too.
In my previous experiences as a foreigner learning the local language, I was always in classes with people from all around the world. We were forced to speak in the local language because that was the only one we all had in common. This is not so in my class where I am the only one who does not speak Mandarin. Even Hunter, the other semi-American, was born in China and grew up speaking Chinese in his home in Boston.
I have class with three other girls and three guys. For someone who is good at names, I only know three of the six because I am having a hard time visualizing how to spell them. That's my trick. When you tell me your name for the first time, I imagine it spelled out above your head like a sign and it sticks with me. This is not working for me. I am also having a hard time making friends with the Chinese people because they do not speak any English and none of us are that great in French. We make conversation about the limited number of things we know how to say and then we have exhausted our list of topics of discussion. And then, because it's easier for them, they go back to talking with all of their Chinese friends in Chinese.
My classmates have taken up the cause of teaching me a few phrases in Chinese, which is fun for us all. They giggle at the American trying to speak their language but they also admit that I have a pretty good ear for the different tones and my pronunciation isn't that bad.
Who ever heard of someone traveling to France to learn Chinese???
The cultural differences are interesting, as well. I was riding the bus the other day when I saw one of my classmates and a group of her friends. I assume she was telling them that I was in her class with all the other Chinese people and one guy pipes up, in broken English, "You not Chinese. You black!" Yes, thank you. You've figured out my secret! I have also learned that the Chinese word for "well" or "um" sounds like "nigga." Just imagine how many times in every conversation you say "well" or "um" and you can imagine how many times I almost get offended until I remember they're not being racist. If they were, I wouldn't even know it because I don't speak Chinese!
Despite the non-French language barrier, classes are pretty fun. We talk a lot about current events and it reminds me a lot of some of the classes I took in Salamanca and Sevilla. There is tons of vocabulary and I think having to use circumlocution to explain the meaning of a new words is the most fun word game ever. It's like playing Taboo every day! I like that part of things. I also like the part where my Spanish/understanding of languages in general is really helping me catch on to new concepts quickly. Latin roots are totally my friends and those letter cluster rules Tomas taught me back in the day are really coming in handy. Mylène, our teacher, is quite good, and very patient with me. I think she knows that I'll get it together eventually and I just need a little time to get back into the swing of things.
On the other hand, I am shocked by how much grammar I have forgotten and I have a lot of holes in my vocabulary as well. I will be completely following a conversation and then BOOM. There's a key word I don't know and I have lost the whole thread. This will get better very quickly but for right now, it's frustrating.
Also frustrating is the gap between my comprehension and my productive language skills. I understand what you're saying and I can read what is written on a page but then when it's time for me to talk about it, I have a hard time expressing what I really feel. I am used to having insightful and interesting things to say about everything and now all I'm managing is "In the US, people work a lot" and "I prefer rugby and not soccer. Rugby players are strong and they do not cry." These are important phrases, certainly, but not quite the profound, thoughtful statements I would like to make.
I have classes Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday from 10-1 and then Thursdays 10-1 and 2-5. Thursday is a long day but I don't have classes on Fridays so it all works out. What I need to do is get a grammar book and a dictionary so I can spend Fridays brushing up on all the stuff I have forgotten. Next week's mission: Find these items. And maybe a folder since carrying around my notes inside of the handouts is a little bootleg.
Next time: Exploring the heart of Bordeaux
I was not prepared to be in the only non-Chinese person in my class. And of all the levels of French classes, there are only three people total who are not Chinese. Yeah, I was surprised by this, too.
In my previous experiences as a foreigner learning the local language, I was always in classes with people from all around the world. We were forced to speak in the local language because that was the only one we all had in common. This is not so in my class where I am the only one who does not speak Mandarin. Even Hunter, the other semi-American, was born in China and grew up speaking Chinese in his home in Boston.
I have class with three other girls and three guys. For someone who is good at names, I only know three of the six because I am having a hard time visualizing how to spell them. That's my trick. When you tell me your name for the first time, I imagine it spelled out above your head like a sign and it sticks with me. This is not working for me. I am also having a hard time making friends with the Chinese people because they do not speak any English and none of us are that great in French. We make conversation about the limited number of things we know how to say and then we have exhausted our list of topics of discussion. And then, because it's easier for them, they go back to talking with all of their Chinese friends in Chinese.
My classmates have taken up the cause of teaching me a few phrases in Chinese, which is fun for us all. They giggle at the American trying to speak their language but they also admit that I have a pretty good ear for the different tones and my pronunciation isn't that bad.
Who ever heard of someone traveling to France to learn Chinese???
The cultural differences are interesting, as well. I was riding the bus the other day when I saw one of my classmates and a group of her friends. I assume she was telling them that I was in her class with all the other Chinese people and one guy pipes up, in broken English, "You not Chinese. You black!" Yes, thank you. You've figured out my secret! I have also learned that the Chinese word for "well" or "um" sounds like "nigga." Just imagine how many times in every conversation you say "well" or "um" and you can imagine how many times I almost get offended until I remember they're not being racist. If they were, I wouldn't even know it because I don't speak Chinese!
Despite the non-French language barrier, classes are pretty fun. We talk a lot about current events and it reminds me a lot of some of the classes I took in Salamanca and Sevilla. There is tons of vocabulary and I think having to use circumlocution to explain the meaning of a new words is the most fun word game ever. It's like playing Taboo every day! I like that part of things. I also like the part where my Spanish/understanding of languages in general is really helping me catch on to new concepts quickly. Latin roots are totally my friends and those letter cluster rules Tomas taught me back in the day are really coming in handy. Mylène, our teacher, is quite good, and very patient with me. I think she knows that I'll get it together eventually and I just need a little time to get back into the swing of things.
On the other hand, I am shocked by how much grammar I have forgotten and I have a lot of holes in my vocabulary as well. I will be completely following a conversation and then BOOM. There's a key word I don't know and I have lost the whole thread. This will get better very quickly but for right now, it's frustrating.
Also frustrating is the gap between my comprehension and my productive language skills. I understand what you're saying and I can read what is written on a page but then when it's time for me to talk about it, I have a hard time expressing what I really feel. I am used to having insightful and interesting things to say about everything and now all I'm managing is "In the US, people work a lot" and "I prefer rugby and not soccer. Rugby players are strong and they do not cry." These are important phrases, certainly, but not quite the profound, thoughtful statements I would like to make.
I have classes Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday from 10-1 and then Thursdays 10-1 and 2-5. Thursday is a long day but I don't have classes on Fridays so it all works out. What I need to do is get a grammar book and a dictionary so I can spend Fridays brushing up on all the stuff I have forgotten. Next week's mission: Find these items. And maybe a folder since carrying around my notes inside of the handouts is a little bootleg.
Next time: Exploring the heart of Bordeaux
First Day of School
Having now experienced 25 first days of school in my life, both as a student and a teacher, I can honestly say that starting off a school year is one of the most inherently nerve-wracking events I can think of. You want to make a good impression so you pack your materials the night before, double checking your bag to make sure you have everything you need. You pick out a nice outfit, but it has to be one that doesn't make it look like you're trying too hard to look put together. You set your alarm for 20 minutes earlier than normal so that you have extra time to get ready in the morning. You toss and turn all night with nervous excitement and wake up before your alarm even goes off because you're not really sleeping anyway. You spend the morning running around your house, doing things twice, because you suddenly forget how to get ready for a day that is, for the most part, just like any other. This is the way of the world.
Even with 24 years of experience at this same old routine, I managed to screw it up, but I'm only taking partial responsibility for this one. Mireille, the director of international affairs at Esarc Evolution, has been helping me through my enrollment process since April. We confirmed my starting date as November 12 but with no specifics on what time I should be there or to which one of the campus's buildings I should report. Normally, this would be an easy fix via email but Mireille was on vacation and completely incommunicado. Great. She was expecting me, though, so I sent an email anyway. I got up at 8am on Monday and checked for a response. Nothing. Having slept poorly with first day jitters, I laid back down for a minute, which somehow turned into two hours. Shit.
I checked my email again and she had responded. "I am in the office now. Come by between 10am and 1pm or between 2pm and 5:00pm to take your placement test. It will take at least two hours."
It was already after 10 and it was going to take me at least 30 minutes to walk to the school. I was still in pajamas and hadn't eaten breakfast. She didn't say what building to report to so I sent another email to ask but didn't have time to wait for a response. If I get there after 11 will she let me take the test? I didn't know I'd be taking another placement test. I didn't study! What if I get lost? How will I know where to go once I get there? I need to leave right now. Go go go.
On the bright side, the walk to the school is quite lovely. I walk by two of Bordeaux's premier wineries, with rows of grapevines and beautiful chateaux overlooking the property.
I was in a hurry, though, and didn't get to appreciate them much. Once I got to the campus, I had to figure out where to find this woman. I looked for a sign that said "Foreign kids enter here" but to no avail. I wandered around for a bit until I found a building labeled "Accueil": This is an all-encompassing word for "welcome," "start," "home," and "try here first if you don't know what you're doing." I asked the woman at the desk where I could find Mireille Lambert and busted out my acceptance letter, proving I really did belong there. This woman spoke slowly and clearly and I completely understood that I was to wait in that chair over there and Mireille would come up to get me shortly.
Mireille is pretty much exactly how I envisioned her: a petite older woman with short blonde hair and gold rimmed glasses. Having years of practice in dealing with non-French speakers, she was also extremely easy to understand. We went down to her office (which was in the first place I looked but I somehow missed the sign with her name on it in bold capital letters...) and I was ready to jump right in to whatever tasks I need to complete to get totally enrolled.
I was shocked by how many other students came through her door while I was trying to get my things taken care of. Don't these people see that I am in here, obviously in the middle of some important business? I was more shocked that she would stop whatever she and I were working on to deal with each of these interruptions. The American in me wanted her to say, "Hello, Pierre. Can you come by after lunch? As you can clearly see, I'm meeting with a new student right now and I want to give her my full attention." This is just not how it works in France, I guess. I had some paperwork to complete for my file and then it was time for the placement test. There were several listening sections, three writing tasks and a brief speaking topic. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself because the test was very similar to some of the ones I designed for my own foreign language students. Mireille graded it right there and determined that I was in the B2 level (intermediate advanced). Apparently, this is the highest level you can place into. Thank you, Louise, for teaching me all that French back at Ithaca!
After the test, I got a quick tour of the campus. It's a lot nicer than the pictures on the website made it out to be: Three instructional buildings, a computer lab, a cafeteria, a student center, several dorm buildings... It's like a regular university campus on a much smaller scale. I was also introduced to the two other Americans that go to the school. Friends! Ashley is from Florida and Hunter is from China but grew up in Boston. We chatted for a bit and I found out Hunter and I were going to be in the same class. Double friends!
I had a bunch of errands to run so I headed back to Auchan. I bought some cookware so I could finally make hot meals and decided to try my luck with their cell phone people. After more of the characteristically French free-for-all costumer service, I landed with a sales rep that spoke a decent amount of English and we managed to get me a phone and a plan even without all the stuff the other lady told me I would need. He even sold me my 31 euro phone for 1.01 euro. What a guy! The process for choosing a phone and getting a plan was much less complex than that of paying for the phone, and I had to visit two separate check out counters and sign away my life in triplicate but whatever. French phone means internet in my apartment and video chatting. Win.
Back at home, I had a delicious pasta with homemade tomato sauce for dinner and managed to squeeze out a few minutes of video chatting with the remaining battery on my computer. Even though it only briefly, I was so happy to see Jason's face. Technology is awesome. I also had two replies from jobs I had been investigating, asking if I was available to work certain hours. Score!
So to summarize, I aced placement test; made two new friends; got a phone, cookware, and internet; and got two potential job offers all in one day. LIKE A BOSS. Keep it up, Stich, and you just might pull this off.
Next time: The start of classes
Even with 24 years of experience at this same old routine, I managed to screw it up, but I'm only taking partial responsibility for this one. Mireille, the director of international affairs at Esarc Evolution, has been helping me through my enrollment process since April. We confirmed my starting date as November 12 but with no specifics on what time I should be there or to which one of the campus's buildings I should report. Normally, this would be an easy fix via email but Mireille was on vacation and completely incommunicado. Great. She was expecting me, though, so I sent an email anyway. I got up at 8am on Monday and checked for a response. Nothing. Having slept poorly with first day jitters, I laid back down for a minute, which somehow turned into two hours. Shit.
I checked my email again and she had responded. "I am in the office now. Come by between 10am and 1pm or between 2pm and 5:00pm to take your placement test. It will take at least two hours."
It was already after 10 and it was going to take me at least 30 minutes to walk to the school. I was still in pajamas and hadn't eaten breakfast. She didn't say what building to report to so I sent another email to ask but didn't have time to wait for a response. If I get there after 11 will she let me take the test? I didn't know I'd be taking another placement test. I didn't study! What if I get lost? How will I know where to go once I get there? I need to leave right now. Go go go.
On the bright side, the walk to the school is quite lovely. I walk by two of Bordeaux's premier wineries, with rows of grapevines and beautiful chateaux overlooking the property.
I was in a hurry, though, and didn't get to appreciate them much. Once I got to the campus, I had to figure out where to find this woman. I looked for a sign that said "Foreign kids enter here" but to no avail. I wandered around for a bit until I found a building labeled "Accueil": This is an all-encompassing word for "welcome," "start," "home," and "try here first if you don't know what you're doing." I asked the woman at the desk where I could find Mireille Lambert and busted out my acceptance letter, proving I really did belong there. This woman spoke slowly and clearly and I completely understood that I was to wait in that chair over there and Mireille would come up to get me shortly.
Mireille is pretty much exactly how I envisioned her: a petite older woman with short blonde hair and gold rimmed glasses. Having years of practice in dealing with non-French speakers, she was also extremely easy to understand. We went down to her office (which was in the first place I looked but I somehow missed the sign with her name on it in bold capital letters...) and I was ready to jump right in to whatever tasks I need to complete to get totally enrolled.
I was shocked by how many other students came through her door while I was trying to get my things taken care of. Don't these people see that I am in here, obviously in the middle of some important business? I was more shocked that she would stop whatever she and I were working on to deal with each of these interruptions. The American in me wanted her to say, "Hello, Pierre. Can you come by after lunch? As you can clearly see, I'm meeting with a new student right now and I want to give her my full attention." This is just not how it works in France, I guess. I had some paperwork to complete for my file and then it was time for the placement test. There were several listening sections, three writing tasks and a brief speaking topic. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself because the test was very similar to some of the ones I designed for my own foreign language students. Mireille graded it right there and determined that I was in the B2 level (intermediate advanced). Apparently, this is the highest level you can place into. Thank you, Louise, for teaching me all that French back at Ithaca!
After the test, I got a quick tour of the campus. It's a lot nicer than the pictures on the website made it out to be: Three instructional buildings, a computer lab, a cafeteria, a student center, several dorm buildings... It's like a regular university campus on a much smaller scale. I was also introduced to the two other Americans that go to the school. Friends! Ashley is from Florida and Hunter is from China but grew up in Boston. We chatted for a bit and I found out Hunter and I were going to be in the same class. Double friends!
I had a bunch of errands to run so I headed back to Auchan. I bought some cookware so I could finally make hot meals and decided to try my luck with their cell phone people. After more of the characteristically French free-for-all costumer service, I landed with a sales rep that spoke a decent amount of English and we managed to get me a phone and a plan even without all the stuff the other lady told me I would need. He even sold me my 31 euro phone for 1.01 euro. What a guy! The process for choosing a phone and getting a plan was much less complex than that of paying for the phone, and I had to visit two separate check out counters and sign away my life in triplicate but whatever. French phone means internet in my apartment and video chatting. Win.
Back at home, I had a delicious pasta with homemade tomato sauce for dinner and managed to squeeze out a few minutes of video chatting with the remaining battery on my computer. Even though it only briefly, I was so happy to see Jason's face. Technology is awesome. I also had two replies from jobs I had been investigating, asking if I was available to work certain hours. Score!
So to summarize, I aced placement test; made two new friends; got a phone, cookware, and internet; and got two potential job offers all in one day. LIKE A BOSS. Keep it up, Stich, and you just might pull this off.
Next time: The start of classes
Friday, November 16, 2012
FAQs. About Me, Not France.
"You could study French in plenty of cities around the world, Nicole. How did you decide on Bordeaux?"
That's a great question, friend! Jason was offered a job here and since being a Spanish teacher is a little more flexible than being a specialist on digital cardiac modeling, we go where he goes, especially when that place is in Europe.
Jason is a gem of a human being. They say that when you meet the love of your life, you know it right away. Jason says that he knew. I, on the other hand, was 23 when we met I and was still trying to "find myself." I was finding myself, all right. I found myself in a lot of bars and in one mercurial relationship after another. Totally friend-zoned for the first year and a half that we knew each other, I did notice I always seemed to have a great time when Jason and I hung out, platonically, of course. We ended up spending a lot of quality time together during the Snowpocalypse of 2010 because that's what happens when you live four doors away from someone and there's nowhere else to go. Thanks to a lot of white russians and school being cancelled for the rest of the week, we spent some "real quality time" together (earmuffs, Mom) and the rest is history.
"I thought you lived alone right now. Where is Jason?"
A good point of clarification. Yes, we will both be here eventually, but Jason is still finishing his PhD. He's had a few obstacles to overcome, such as having his whole lab relocated from Tulane to Baltimore after Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, but it looks like things will be wrapping up in January of this coming year.
"Got it. So are you guys, like, gonna get married, or what? Seems like a pretty big deal to move across an ocean to be with someone."
Indeed it is a big deal. We have been talking a lot about this lately and it has made for a pretty cute story. A week before I was scheduled to leave for Bordeaux, Hurricane Sandy was on a warpath up the east coast. Jason and I were enjoying a relatively quiet Monday inside but we had been following the storm's path on the news all day. At the peak of the storm, Jason got up from our game of backgammon, disappeared into the bedroom and reappeared with a small box and a smile. It was the perfect moment. In the middle of this terrible storm, it was so clear what needed to be done. And since natural disasters brought us together in the first place, it seemed only fitting.
I swear I tried to focus so I could remember his proposal but all I could hear in my head was "EEEEEEEE!!! THIS IS IT THIS IS IT THIS IS IT payattentionpayattentionomgomgomgomg I love this man." He said some nice things about me and how there's no one he'd rather spend his life with and then I'm crying and I think we both said "I love you" at least 20 times each and I couldn't get over how much I loved the ring he picked out for me oooooohhh...itisjustsoSHIIIIIIINY.
Once we both regained out senses, we went right back to our game. He didn't even let me win.
"That is a pretty cute story. So who do you hang out with since he's not around?"
Jason is a thoughtful man and he shot my email over to a guy who already works in the lab here in Bordeaux. This guy, Steve, contacted me when I got here and invited me to dinner at his house on my first Sunday in town. I felt like an ass not bringing a bottle of wine or something, but nothing is open on Sundays. (Note to self: Stock up on champagne before trying to make mimosas on a Sunday.) Steve came all the way out from his home in the 'burbs to pick up me and another one of his colleagues, Rick. Rick and I are practically neighbors and I look forward to seeing him more often.
There are few things that can turn your frown upside down like a home-cooked meal with friends. Well, friends-to-be, I guess. Saturday was a bit of an emotional roller coaster and this was just the thing I needed to re-ground myself. Steve's wife, Steffi, made a delicious carrot ginger soup, a pasta with spinach and roasted hazelnuts over ice cream for dessert. Triple yum. Steve and Rick are both from the UK and Steffi is from Germany and all three of them speak English. Beautiful, comfortable, music-to-my-French-filled-ears ENGLISH. And you won't meet a kinder and more welcoming bunch than these guys. They gave me lots of tips about how to get set up in France and we lamented about some of our shared difficulties in the process. They filled me in on a typical day at the lab and allayed some of my fears that Jason would be bombarded with French at work. (He doesn't speak it... yet.) And then we talked about things other than logistic and it was so nice to not be researching or planning or relocating for a change. We were just four English speakers, two dogs, two cats and a baby, enjoying a lovely meal together.
"And what are you planning to do with your time while he's working this new job?"
I enrolled in a French language program at Esarc Evoltuion, partly because it would get me a student visa, but mostly because my immediate career goal is to return to the US when we're done here and teach both Spanish and French. I figure I'll be more marketable with two languages. And who doesn't want to know French? C'est la langue de l'amour, n'est-ce pas? I am also interviewing with a company called Baby-langues next week so hopefully I will be able to earn a little money, too. Keep your fingers crossed for me!
"Will do. Best of luck to you in all these new endeavors. You must be pretty amped."
I went from having a lovely but fairly quiet life in Baltimore to having a really fresh and exciting life in France, so yeah. I would say I'm pretty amped. I get to live in Bordeaux with the love of my life for a couple years or so. We'll have opportunities to travel all over Europe, maybe go visit his friend in Sierra Leone... It's the opportunity of a lifetime and we couldn't be more excited. Even when this sucks, it's going to be great because we're in France we we have each other. Doesn't get much better than that.
Next time: Back to school
That's a great question, friend! Jason was offered a job here and since being a Spanish teacher is a little more flexible than being a specialist on digital cardiac modeling, we go where he goes, especially when that place is in Europe.
Jason is a gem of a human being. They say that when you meet the love of your life, you know it right away. Jason says that he knew. I, on the other hand, was 23 when we met I and was still trying to "find myself." I was finding myself, all right. I found myself in a lot of bars and in one mercurial relationship after another. Totally friend-zoned for the first year and a half that we knew each other, I did notice I always seemed to have a great time when Jason and I hung out, platonically, of course. We ended up spending a lot of quality time together during the Snowpocalypse of 2010 because that's what happens when you live four doors away from someone and there's nowhere else to go. Thanks to a lot of white russians and school being cancelled for the rest of the week, we spent some "real quality time" together (earmuffs, Mom) and the rest is history.
"I thought you lived alone right now. Where is Jason?"
A good point of clarification. Yes, we will both be here eventually, but Jason is still finishing his PhD. He's had a few obstacles to overcome, such as having his whole lab relocated from Tulane to Baltimore after Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, but it looks like things will be wrapping up in January of this coming year.
"Got it. So are you guys, like, gonna get married, or what? Seems like a pretty big deal to move across an ocean to be with someone."
Indeed it is a big deal. We have been talking a lot about this lately and it has made for a pretty cute story. A week before I was scheduled to leave for Bordeaux, Hurricane Sandy was on a warpath up the east coast. Jason and I were enjoying a relatively quiet Monday inside but we had been following the storm's path on the news all day. At the peak of the storm, Jason got up from our game of backgammon, disappeared into the bedroom and reappeared with a small box and a smile. It was the perfect moment. In the middle of this terrible storm, it was so clear what needed to be done. And since natural disasters brought us together in the first place, it seemed only fitting.
I swear I tried to focus so I could remember his proposal but all I could hear in my head was "EEEEEEEE!!! THIS IS IT THIS IS IT THIS IS IT payattentionpayattentionomgomgomgomg I love this man." He said some nice things about me and how there's no one he'd rather spend his life with and then I'm crying and I think we both said "I love you" at least 20 times each and I couldn't get over how much I loved the ring he picked out for me oooooohhh...itisjustsoSHIIIIIIINY.
Once we both regained out senses, we went right back to our game. He didn't even let me win.
"That is a pretty cute story. So who do you hang out with since he's not around?"
Jason is a thoughtful man and he shot my email over to a guy who already works in the lab here in Bordeaux. This guy, Steve, contacted me when I got here and invited me to dinner at his house on my first Sunday in town. I felt like an ass not bringing a bottle of wine or something, but nothing is open on Sundays. (Note to self: Stock up on champagne before trying to make mimosas on a Sunday.) Steve came all the way out from his home in the 'burbs to pick up me and another one of his colleagues, Rick. Rick and I are practically neighbors and I look forward to seeing him more often.
There are few things that can turn your frown upside down like a home-cooked meal with friends. Well, friends-to-be, I guess. Saturday was a bit of an emotional roller coaster and this was just the thing I needed to re-ground myself. Steve's wife, Steffi, made a delicious carrot ginger soup, a pasta with spinach and roasted hazelnuts over ice cream for dessert. Triple yum. Steve and Rick are both from the UK and Steffi is from Germany and all three of them speak English. Beautiful, comfortable, music-to-my-French-filled-ears ENGLISH. And you won't meet a kinder and more welcoming bunch than these guys. They gave me lots of tips about how to get set up in France and we lamented about some of our shared difficulties in the process. They filled me in on a typical day at the lab and allayed some of my fears that Jason would be bombarded with French at work. (He doesn't speak it... yet.) And then we talked about things other than logistic and it was so nice to not be researching or planning or relocating for a change. We were just four English speakers, two dogs, two cats and a baby, enjoying a lovely meal together.
"And what are you planning to do with your time while he's working this new job?"
I enrolled in a French language program at Esarc Evoltuion, partly because it would get me a student visa, but mostly because my immediate career goal is to return to the US when we're done here and teach both Spanish and French. I figure I'll be more marketable with two languages. And who doesn't want to know French? C'est la langue de l'amour, n'est-ce pas? I am also interviewing with a company called Baby-langues next week so hopefully I will be able to earn a little money, too. Keep your fingers crossed for me!
"Will do. Best of luck to you in all these new endeavors. You must be pretty amped."
I went from having a lovely but fairly quiet life in Baltimore to having a really fresh and exciting life in France, so yeah. I would say I'm pretty amped. I get to live in Bordeaux with the love of my life for a couple years or so. We'll have opportunities to travel all over Europe, maybe go visit his friend in Sierra Leone... It's the opportunity of a lifetime and we couldn't be more excited. Even when this sucks, it's going to be great because we're in France we we have each other. Doesn't get much better than that.
Next time: Back to school
The First Rough Day
Two days down and I am feeling pretty good about life. Despite a few hiccups here and there, I am managing. I won't starve to death and I have a roof over my head. I got this!
Unbeknownst to me, there was some sort of holiday going on the week I arrived in France. Mireille, the woman in charge of my studies, was off vacationing somewhere and left me to my own devices to get settled in the residence. It wasn't ideal but I figured it out. She also told me to come to campus on Monday, but gave me no specific time or place to meet her. But, ah, this is Europe, so I tried not to worry about it. The holiday may have also accounted for the lack of anyone...anywhere. Even the mall seemed pretty dead.
When there is literally no one around, it makes it difficult to make friends. And when you have no phone, no internet, and no friends, it can get pretty lonely, especially when you are as pure an extrovert as I am. I also had no computer because the fancy converter box I bought to change the voltage shorted out the adapter for my laptop. Apparently, you don't need to convert a MagSafe adapter and trying to convert something that is trying very hard to not be converted equals electrical failure. I had some battery remaining, but in hopes of getting a phone by Sunday, I was saving it for a video chat with Jason. With my iPod busted and back in Rochester, this also meant I had no music. Really??
It's okay. I'll just read some of my book, Three Cups of Tea. A book about impoverished children in Pakistan and Afghanistan, while inspirational, is not exactly the fun first Saturday I had envisioned, but it was raining so I wasn't going anywhere anyway. After several hours of reading and snacking, I decided to pick up my old journal. It's been a while since I wrote anything so I thumbed through some of my old entries. As I was re-reading the episodes of my life, which spanned the entirety of my time in Baltimore, I ran the gamut of human emotions. I was disappointed in myself for countless silly mistakes that I needn't have made twice but also truly impressed by instances of foresight and humility. I laughed until I cried at some of the ridiculous situations I managed to get myself into and wept unapologetically as I remembered the death of Aunt Dorothy. I was infuriated all over again by the inefficiencies of the Baltimore City School System, but felt a tremendous warmth in remembering the relationships I had formed at my school, both with students and staff members.
There's a quote from an episode of Ally McBeal that has always struck me: John Cage says something like, "If you look back on any year in your life and it doesn't bring you to tears, either from joy or from grief, consider the year wasted." My time in Baltimore was a remarkable era in my life and all of it, the good, the bad, the great, and the awful, every single second of it has brought me to this point, this next chapter in my life. And while I may not be building schools for poor Muslim girls in the Middle East like Greg Mortenson, I think it will make for one hell of a story.
Next time: More about how I got into this gig in the first place.
Unbeknownst to me, there was some sort of holiday going on the week I arrived in France. Mireille, the woman in charge of my studies, was off vacationing somewhere and left me to my own devices to get settled in the residence. It wasn't ideal but I figured it out. She also told me to come to campus on Monday, but gave me no specific time or place to meet her. But, ah, this is Europe, so I tried not to worry about it. The holiday may have also accounted for the lack of anyone...anywhere. Even the mall seemed pretty dead.
When there is literally no one around, it makes it difficult to make friends. And when you have no phone, no internet, and no friends, it can get pretty lonely, especially when you are as pure an extrovert as I am. I also had no computer because the fancy converter box I bought to change the voltage shorted out the adapter for my laptop. Apparently, you don't need to convert a MagSafe adapter and trying to convert something that is trying very hard to not be converted equals electrical failure. I had some battery remaining, but in hopes of getting a phone by Sunday, I was saving it for a video chat with Jason. With my iPod busted and back in Rochester, this also meant I had no music. Really??
It's okay. I'll just read some of my book, Three Cups of Tea. A book about impoverished children in Pakistan and Afghanistan, while inspirational, is not exactly the fun first Saturday I had envisioned, but it was raining so I wasn't going anywhere anyway. After several hours of reading and snacking, I decided to pick up my old journal. It's been a while since I wrote anything so I thumbed through some of my old entries. As I was re-reading the episodes of my life, which spanned the entirety of my time in Baltimore, I ran the gamut of human emotions. I was disappointed in myself for countless silly mistakes that I needn't have made twice but also truly impressed by instances of foresight and humility. I laughed until I cried at some of the ridiculous situations I managed to get myself into and wept unapologetically as I remembered the death of Aunt Dorothy. I was infuriated all over again by the inefficiencies of the Baltimore City School System, but felt a tremendous warmth in remembering the relationships I had formed at my school, both with students and staff members.
There's a quote from an episode of Ally McBeal that has always struck me: John Cage says something like, "If you look back on any year in your life and it doesn't bring you to tears, either from joy or from grief, consider the year wasted." My time in Baltimore was a remarkable era in my life and all of it, the good, the bad, the great, and the awful, every single second of it has brought me to this point, this next chapter in my life. And while I may not be building schools for poor Muslim girls in the Middle East like Greg Mortenson, I think it will make for one hell of a story.
Next time: More about how I got into this gig in the first place.
An Epic Discovery
Rule number one of traveling into a new time zone is don't go to sleep until it's local time to go to sleep. Otherwise, your circadian rhythm is completely screwed and you'll never recover. NEVER!!!! I sure do wish I had brought a pillow. Wrapping your sweaters in a bath towel does not a pillow make, my friends. Despite my MacGyver'ed linens, I slept like a baby, and woke up on Friday ready to take on the day.
It was back to see my buddy Isabelle at the bank to put some money in my account. This is an obnoxious process. Wells Fargo does not allow you to wire money without appearing in person and the only way to get money from your American account while living in France is to withdraw your daily ATM limit every day until you have the right amount of money in your new account. I appreciate the security measures, Wells Fargo, but I need you to appreciate the urgency here. I had my withdrawal limit bumped up, which is great, but every time I use my American ATM card, it costs me an extra $5 in fees. It adds up when you're trying to move $10,000...
Back at the residence, after I had set up an automatic debit for my rent, I figured I should ask about where to get groceries and a cell phone. Groceries are essential for obvious reasons, but the whole reason I wanted the phone was because I needed to receive a text message confirmation code in order to set up the internet in my apartment. My American phone wasn't getting the codes and while the computers in the lab worked just fine, they did not have webcams for my video chatting needs. As per the usual with the women in the office, I understood about 25% of what they were trying to explain to me. Seriously, when I talk to them, it feels like they are just mumbling random sounds at me, ending each sing-songy phrase with "Vous me comprenez?" to which I always reply with a blank stare and a shrug. I swear, when I can understand them, I will have really accomplished something.
The main director scribbled some things on a Post-It
and led me outside, pointing off into the distance and chattering a mile a minute. I felt like I was trying to decipher Lassie's urgent barking: "What's that, girl? You say I should go over there and get on the tram? But shouldn't we help Timmy get out of the well first?"
Luckily, the tram system in Bordeaux is extremely user-friendly and I instantly knew what I needed to do once I looked at the map.
I love maps. The first thing I do in a new place is find a map and get oriented. I credit my fascination with them to my father, who would always let me be the navigator on our long car rides to the south, long before anyone had a GPS. I often wonder if (when?!??) the zombie apocalypse happens, and we lose access to this kind of technology, how many people will be completely S.O.L. because they don't know how to read a real map. But I digress.
Have you ever had a joy attack? It's when you're going about your daily life and all of a sudden something happens to you that fills you with the purest, most genuine joy. This is how I felt when I walked into the Mériadeck shopping center. On the surface, it's just a mall, but inside this mall is Auchan: It was like the Pittsford Wegmans with a liquor store in it. A liquor store with three aisles of amazing Bordeuax wines for 5 euros. And they don't just have one cheese aisle. There are multiple cheese aisles, sectioned off by the type of cheese (chèvre, roquefort, brie, camembert ...) and this is in addition to the cheese counter, where you can get whole wheels of cheese if you want. After a rather isolating first day, I felt like I was back home with my people; people who tag their own produce and enjoy fancy things at reasonable prices.
I was so excited, I bought more than was comfortable to carry, even though only half of the items on my "Get This Stuff TODAY" list had been crossed off. I made a quick stop at the Orange cell phone store and I was intimidated by the beautiful woman trying to explain to me all the things I would need if I wanted a cell phone with a plan. I was somewhat dejected when I realized that I would not be getting a phone that day. I had to go back to my residence to drop off the food and I almost called it a day, resigned to the fact that I had failed my phone mission and therefore would spend another day without seeing any familiar faces from back home. But then I remembered the other half of my list, containing items like a pillow, toilet paper, trashcans, plates and cups. I had to go back to Auchan. Lassie had told me they had everything there so I must have missed something. I skipped the grocery section and found an escalator. On the ride up, I noticed a sign, outlining the different departments. Wait, this place has THREE floors? Not only is this place a Wegmans, but it's a Target and a BestBuy, too. In that instant, as I ascended to my new Mecca of commerce, I knew everything was going to be all right.
Next time: Not everyday can be a great day.
It was back to see my buddy Isabelle at the bank to put some money in my account. This is an obnoxious process. Wells Fargo does not allow you to wire money without appearing in person and the only way to get money from your American account while living in France is to withdraw your daily ATM limit every day until you have the right amount of money in your new account. I appreciate the security measures, Wells Fargo, but I need you to appreciate the urgency here. I had my withdrawal limit bumped up, which is great, but every time I use my American ATM card, it costs me an extra $5 in fees. It adds up when you're trying to move $10,000...
Back at the residence, after I had set up an automatic debit for my rent, I figured I should ask about where to get groceries and a cell phone. Groceries are essential for obvious reasons, but the whole reason I wanted the phone was because I needed to receive a text message confirmation code in order to set up the internet in my apartment. My American phone wasn't getting the codes and while the computers in the lab worked just fine, they did not have webcams for my video chatting needs. As per the usual with the women in the office, I understood about 25% of what they were trying to explain to me. Seriously, when I talk to them, it feels like they are just mumbling random sounds at me, ending each sing-songy phrase with "Vous me comprenez?" to which I always reply with a blank stare and a shrug. I swear, when I can understand them, I will have really accomplished something.
The main director scribbled some things on a Post-It
and led me outside, pointing off into the distance and chattering a mile a minute. I felt like I was trying to decipher Lassie's urgent barking: "What's that, girl? You say I should go over there and get on the tram? But shouldn't we help Timmy get out of the well first?"
Luckily, the tram system in Bordeaux is extremely user-friendly and I instantly knew what I needed to do once I looked at the map.
I love maps. The first thing I do in a new place is find a map and get oriented. I credit my fascination with them to my father, who would always let me be the navigator on our long car rides to the south, long before anyone had a GPS. I often wonder if (when?!??) the zombie apocalypse happens, and we lose access to this kind of technology, how many people will be completely S.O.L. because they don't know how to read a real map. But I digress.
Have you ever had a joy attack? It's when you're going about your daily life and all of a sudden something happens to you that fills you with the purest, most genuine joy. This is how I felt when I walked into the Mériadeck shopping center. On the surface, it's just a mall, but inside this mall is Auchan: It was like the Pittsford Wegmans with a liquor store in it. A liquor store with three aisles of amazing Bordeuax wines for 5 euros. And they don't just have one cheese aisle. There are multiple cheese aisles, sectioned off by the type of cheese (chèvre, roquefort, brie, camembert ...) and this is in addition to the cheese counter, where you can get whole wheels of cheese if you want. After a rather isolating first day, I felt like I was back home with my people; people who tag their own produce and enjoy fancy things at reasonable prices.
I was so excited, I bought more than was comfortable to carry, even though only half of the items on my "Get This Stuff TODAY" list had been crossed off. I made a quick stop at the Orange cell phone store and I was intimidated by the beautiful woman trying to explain to me all the things I would need if I wanted a cell phone with a plan. I was somewhat dejected when I realized that I would not be getting a phone that day. I had to go back to my residence to drop off the food and I almost called it a day, resigned to the fact that I had failed my phone mission and therefore would spend another day without seeing any familiar faces from back home. But then I remembered the other half of my list, containing items like a pillow, toilet paper, trashcans, plates and cups. I had to go back to Auchan. Lassie had told me they had everything there so I must have missed something. I skipped the grocery section and found an escalator. On the ride up, I noticed a sign, outlining the different departments. Wait, this place has THREE floors? Not only is this place a Wegmans, but it's a Target and a BestBuy, too. In that instant, as I ascended to my new Mecca of commerce, I knew everything was going to be all right.
Next time: Not everyday can be a great day.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
"Sorry! It's my first day!"
My whole life was stuffed, squeezed, and smashed into four bags, every zipper tugging against itself, trying to hold back the contents within. It's humbling, really, to condense your existence into such relatively small packages, but then again, what choice do you have when you're about to get on a plane, all by yourself, and leave everything you know behind to start a new life across an ocean?
The day I left seems like years ago even though it has only been a week. I was surprised by how well I was holding up, especially because I am such a big fan of tearful goodbyes. I suppose I had used up all my tears in the previous weeks after the Harrisburg match and the subsequent impromptu pub crawl with the rugby team. Maybe it was just all the estrogen... But there I was, plane ticket in hand, on the way to airport with my parents and all I could think was "I hope that cat doesn't run away."
My parents, in their infinite kindness, have agreed to house our cat, Carlos, for the duration of our time in Bordeaux. Jason and I didn't really plan on having a cat, less so when we found out we really were moving to France, but I guess the universe had other plans for us all. Complete transformation to cat-ladyhood took approximately 3 days. I see your rolling eyes and hear your judgmental thoughts but just try to have a cat as awesome as Carlos and not love him to death. JUST TRY.
I find international airports to be strangely delightful places. I love the way all these different cultures and languages come together in this one place, destined for another. Sometimes, while sitting at my gate, I try to make up stories about where are the people are from and how we both ended up here at the same time. Claude and Pauline came to visit their daughter, Marie, who was studying in Chicago this semester. They surprised her at her downtown apartment, only to discover young Marie in bed with Rufus, her landlord... and lover!! Back to France, you tramp! I am also floored by the logistics of a place like this. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of flights that pass through this airport everyday and I find it to be nothing shy of a miracle that there aren't more lost bags, or security breeches, or mid-air collisions. Truly remarkable.
Less delightful is the actual international flight. I never know if I should try to be friendly with my seat mate. Does he want to talk to me? I don't want to be annoying. But is it better to be annoying or to be rude? I have to sit next to this person for eight hours, he's bound to form some opinion of me. Which is it going to be? Oh thank God, he's going to sleep. Pressure's off. But he's going to miss the in flight meal. Should I wake him up or just try to put his tray table down for him so that he has food waiting when he wakes up? I would want that if I fell asleep. What if he wakes up in the middle of me putting the tray table down and he thinks I'm trying to fondle him? One wrong move and I have a handful of old Frenchman balls. Oh thank God, he's awake.
Lather, rinse, repeat for eight hours.
***
Thanks to some shitty airplane coffee, I am surprisingly alert when we land in Paris. I find my bags and truck it over to the train station to purchase my tickets to Bordeaux. I wish I had swallowed my pride and gotten one of those little hand carts because now I am overheating in the boots and coat I didn't have room for in one of my four bags and I already stink from being on a plane for half a day and I'm sweating out my perm and... Finally! Trains! Okay, time to use the three years French I learned in college six years ago. I can do this.
Ticket agent: lkdfmneo;wirjhoirjnlkenf,dsmfn;oiewjro;ietrlknf, mademoiselle?
Me: Um... Je vais à Bordeaux?
Ticket agent: oiejlkjfkdlladkjc,m 10:00 ou 3:30?
Me: 10:00! Oui!
Ticket agent: oijeklnfdklajfrioewndmsncieriejr. [hands me a ticket and points to the credit card machine]
Me: [Grinning like an idiot, swipes card]
Ticket agent: cmnvm,dpirtpqpwskjsipo1. kljlkueueiwjieekjzpow [something I interpreted to mean "The train will be here soon so you better get down to the track"].
Me: D'accord. Merci! [runs away in an attempt to not miss the train]
Okay, that wasn't too bad. I rushed to the track, only to discover that there was nothing to indicate which platform I needed to be on. I went back into the station and a sign told me that I wouldn't know which track until 15 minutes before the train was supposed to leave. Ha! I got this. Train doesn't leave for another 30 minutes. I'll just hang out here. Hey! I recognize these validation machines. Glad I have traveled in France before or I could have been in real trouble. How would someone know to do this otherwise? I am so worldly!
Riding a train from Paris to Bordeaux sounds like such a romantic idea, doesn't it? Train travel to southern France! Ooh là là! Less romantic when the narrow aisles are not big enough for your giant red suitcase and you're completely blocking the whole train car and people are literally climbing over seats to get around you. "Desolée. Desolée!! Pardon. Excusez-moi, si'l vous plait." Thank you, random lady who knew I was obviously American and helped me figure out what to do with my life. "You put bag here. This my seat. It's okay." Consciousness was not my strong suit on the train and I dozed almost the whole four hours to Bordeaux. I did catch a few glimpses of the French countryside. All those pretty rounded clay roof tiles...
I arrive in Bordeaux and the hardest part of the trip so far was trying to get my bags up to the other side of the track and up the stairs to get into the main part of the station. I really thought that was going to be the end of me, but I guess you get a little dramatic when you've been traveling for 13 hours with minimal sleep. I wish I had gotten some Euros at the airport because I am supposed to take a taxi to my residence and there is no ATM in here. I looked in my wallet as if I could will some foreign currency into it but all I saw were useless American dollars. Why did I even bring these? I cursed myself. Time to speak more French.
Me: Ummm... Ou est le bancomat? [pretty sure I made that word up]
Ticket agent: ldfjljeroitjmdn retire de l'argent?
Me: Oui. Ça.
Ticket agent: oeirjkdnffoijerij Credit Mutuel a gauche kjhdkjheir Hotel.
Me: D'accord. Merci!
Okay, across the street, left of the hotel. Yes! I see it! Stupid bags, stupid train tracks, stupid curb. Got some money. Get a cab. Stupid curb, stupid train tracks, stupid bags. Taxi!
***
Is this the French version of Biggie we're listening to right now? I swear this song sounds just like Big Poppa but in French. Maybe he's not dead and he's just living in France now...
***
I make it to the residence that my school's program coordinator had set up for me. It is pretty much a hotel-shaped dorm. My "studio" has a bed, desk, closet, table, two chairs, two nightstands, a mini fridge, stovetop, kitchen sink and full bathroom.
It's about what I expected, and very dorm room-esque, but the surrounding neighborhood is not really the UNESCO cultural heritage site I had envisioned. It's clean and seems safe, but it's just so... suburban. There's no one around. Not even in the residence itself. I thought this was a bustling college town with local sommeliers selling their wines on the streets! I'll explore tomorrow. For now, I have to get checked in.
Me: Je suis Nicole! (They were expecting me. I must have looked like an absolute mess in this moment. Bags falling off of me, hair in a snarl, clothes wrinkled and sweat-stained...)
Residence director: Bienvenue! iojeflknfm,pomsmpwrotzmnn!
Me: Desolée. Je ne parle pas beaucoup de français.
Residence director: [shoots a concerned look to her assistant] D'accord...
Thus commences 20 straight minutes of them trying to explain things to me, such as how I need to pay my rent as soon as possible but I will need a French bank account, and here are all the keys you will need for various doors around the building, and didn't Madame Lambert explain to you about the bank account?
There are some people who make you feel like you know nothing at all. The residence director is one of them. She's very nice but I don't think she really understands how to talk to someone who doesn't speak your language very well. The assistant is a bit better but it was her first day on the job so she didn't have many answers for me. Sweet Jesus. This is going to be a disaster. Why didn't I study more?
Luckily, I was able to figure out enough that I could get to the bank. Enter: Isabelle, my savior. She is the friendly banker down the road who helped me get my account set up. This is extremely important because you can't do anything in France (get a phone, pay your rent, get a bus pass...) without a French bank account. I was doing well in French for a minute but then things started to get complicated. We didn't have a unit on "How to Open a Bank Account" in my French 101 class. It somehow came up that I spoke Spanish and she just happened to be fluent in that as well. Thank you thank you thank you Spain for giving me the gift of Spanish fluency. We completed the rest of my transactions in Spanish and everything went pretty smoothly. I have seen this woman almost everyday since I moved in because she is just the most helpful soul in the world. Everyday we start speaking in French but I get stuck and she just laughs her little laugh at me and switches to Spanish. I will show you one day, Isabelle. One day you will be proud of the progress I have made in my French skills and then we will both laugh! Ha ha ha!
Account is opened, paperwork is complete, I'll grab a pizza to go and start to make my house a home. I think this will be okay, actually. I can do this. I can and I will.
Next time: Getting settled
The day I left seems like years ago even though it has only been a week. I was surprised by how well I was holding up, especially because I am such a big fan of tearful goodbyes. I suppose I had used up all my tears in the previous weeks after the Harrisburg match and the subsequent impromptu pub crawl with the rugby team. Maybe it was just all the estrogen... But there I was, plane ticket in hand, on the way to airport with my parents and all I could think was "I hope that cat doesn't run away."
My parents, in their infinite kindness, have agreed to house our cat, Carlos, for the duration of our time in Bordeaux. Jason and I didn't really plan on having a cat, less so when we found out we really were moving to France, but I guess the universe had other plans for us all. Complete transformation to cat-ladyhood took approximately 3 days. I see your rolling eyes and hear your judgmental thoughts but just try to have a cat as awesome as Carlos and not love him to death. JUST TRY.
***
I find international airports to be strangely delightful places. I love the way all these different cultures and languages come together in this one place, destined for another. Sometimes, while sitting at my gate, I try to make up stories about where are the people are from and how we both ended up here at the same time. Claude and Pauline came to visit their daughter, Marie, who was studying in Chicago this semester. They surprised her at her downtown apartment, only to discover young Marie in bed with Rufus, her landlord... and lover!! Back to France, you tramp! I am also floored by the logistics of a place like this. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of flights that pass through this airport everyday and I find it to be nothing shy of a miracle that there aren't more lost bags, or security breeches, or mid-air collisions. Truly remarkable.
Less delightful is the actual international flight. I never know if I should try to be friendly with my seat mate. Does he want to talk to me? I don't want to be annoying. But is it better to be annoying or to be rude? I have to sit next to this person for eight hours, he's bound to form some opinion of me. Which is it going to be? Oh thank God, he's going to sleep. Pressure's off. But he's going to miss the in flight meal. Should I wake him up or just try to put his tray table down for him so that he has food waiting when he wakes up? I would want that if I fell asleep. What if he wakes up in the middle of me putting the tray table down and he thinks I'm trying to fondle him? One wrong move and I have a handful of old Frenchman balls. Oh thank God, he's awake.
Lather, rinse, repeat for eight hours.
***
Thanks to some shitty airplane coffee, I am surprisingly alert when we land in Paris. I find my bags and truck it over to the train station to purchase my tickets to Bordeaux. I wish I had swallowed my pride and gotten one of those little hand carts because now I am overheating in the boots and coat I didn't have room for in one of my four bags and I already stink from being on a plane for half a day and I'm sweating out my perm and... Finally! Trains! Okay, time to use the three years French I learned in college six years ago. I can do this.
Ticket agent: lkdfmneo;wirjhoirjnlkenf,dsmfn;oiewjro;ietrlknf, mademoiselle?
Me: Um... Je vais à Bordeaux?
Ticket agent: oiejlkjfkdlladkjc,m 10:00 ou 3:30?
Me: 10:00! Oui!
Ticket agent: oijeklnfdklajfrioewndmsncieriejr. [hands me a ticket and points to the credit card machine]
Me: [Grinning like an idiot, swipes card]
Ticket agent: cmnvm,dpirtpqpwskjsipo1. kljlkueueiwjieekjzpow [something I interpreted to mean "The train will be here soon so you better get down to the track"].
Me: D'accord. Merci! [runs away in an attempt to not miss the train]
Okay, that wasn't too bad. I rushed to the track, only to discover that there was nothing to indicate which platform I needed to be on. I went back into the station and a sign told me that I wouldn't know which track until 15 minutes before the train was supposed to leave. Ha! I got this. Train doesn't leave for another 30 minutes. I'll just hang out here. Hey! I recognize these validation machines. Glad I have traveled in France before or I could have been in real trouble. How would someone know to do this otherwise? I am so worldly!
Riding a train from Paris to Bordeaux sounds like such a romantic idea, doesn't it? Train travel to southern France! Ooh là là! Less romantic when the narrow aisles are not big enough for your giant red suitcase and you're completely blocking the whole train car and people are literally climbing over seats to get around you. "Desolée. Desolée!! Pardon. Excusez-moi, si'l vous plait." Thank you, random lady who knew I was obviously American and helped me figure out what to do with my life. "You put bag here. This my seat. It's okay." Consciousness was not my strong suit on the train and I dozed almost the whole four hours to Bordeaux. I did catch a few glimpses of the French countryside. All those pretty rounded clay roof tiles...
I arrive in Bordeaux and the hardest part of the trip so far was trying to get my bags up to the other side of the track and up the stairs to get into the main part of the station. I really thought that was going to be the end of me, but I guess you get a little dramatic when you've been traveling for 13 hours with minimal sleep. I wish I had gotten some Euros at the airport because I am supposed to take a taxi to my residence and there is no ATM in here. I looked in my wallet as if I could will some foreign currency into it but all I saw were useless American dollars. Why did I even bring these? I cursed myself. Time to speak more French.
Me: Ummm... Ou est le bancomat? [pretty sure I made that word up]
Ticket agent: ldfjljeroitjmdn retire de l'argent?
Me: Oui. Ça.
Ticket agent: oeirjkdnffoijerij Credit Mutuel a gauche kjhdkjheir Hotel.
Me: D'accord. Merci!
Okay, across the street, left of the hotel. Yes! I see it! Stupid bags, stupid train tracks, stupid curb. Got some money. Get a cab. Stupid curb, stupid train tracks, stupid bags. Taxi!
***
Is this the French version of Biggie we're listening to right now? I swear this song sounds just like Big Poppa but in French. Maybe he's not dead and he's just living in France now...
***
I make it to the residence that my school's program coordinator had set up for me. It is pretty much a hotel-shaped dorm. My "studio" has a bed, desk, closet, table, two chairs, two nightstands, a mini fridge, stovetop, kitchen sink and full bathroom.
It's about what I expected, and very dorm room-esque, but the surrounding neighborhood is not really the UNESCO cultural heritage site I had envisioned. It's clean and seems safe, but it's just so... suburban. There's no one around. Not even in the residence itself. I thought this was a bustling college town with local sommeliers selling their wines on the streets! I'll explore tomorrow. For now, I have to get checked in.
Me: Je suis Nicole! (They were expecting me. I must have looked like an absolute mess in this moment. Bags falling off of me, hair in a snarl, clothes wrinkled and sweat-stained...)
Residence director: Bienvenue! iojeflknfm,pomsmpwrotzmnn!
Me: Desolée. Je ne parle pas beaucoup de français.
Residence director: [shoots a concerned look to her assistant] D'accord...
Thus commences 20 straight minutes of them trying to explain things to me, such as how I need to pay my rent as soon as possible but I will need a French bank account, and here are all the keys you will need for various doors around the building, and didn't Madame Lambert explain to you about the bank account?
There are some people who make you feel like you know nothing at all. The residence director is one of them. She's very nice but I don't think she really understands how to talk to someone who doesn't speak your language very well. The assistant is a bit better but it was her first day on the job so she didn't have many answers for me. Sweet Jesus. This is going to be a disaster. Why didn't I study more?
Luckily, I was able to figure out enough that I could get to the bank. Enter: Isabelle, my savior. She is the friendly banker down the road who helped me get my account set up. This is extremely important because you can't do anything in France (get a phone, pay your rent, get a bus pass...) without a French bank account. I was doing well in French for a minute but then things started to get complicated. We didn't have a unit on "How to Open a Bank Account" in my French 101 class. It somehow came up that I spoke Spanish and she just happened to be fluent in that as well. Thank you thank you thank you Spain for giving me the gift of Spanish fluency. We completed the rest of my transactions in Spanish and everything went pretty smoothly. I have seen this woman almost everyday since I moved in because she is just the most helpful soul in the world. Everyday we start speaking in French but I get stuck and she just laughs her little laugh at me and switches to Spanish. I will show you one day, Isabelle. One day you will be proud of the progress I have made in my French skills and then we will both laugh! Ha ha ha!
Account is opened, paperwork is complete, I'll grab a pizza to go and start to make my house a home. I think this will be okay, actually. I can do this. I can and I will.
Next time: Getting settled
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Tips for Moving to France: Visas and Packing Ideas
I know this is not the most thrilling thing to write about but, as per mission #1 of this blog, I want to explain a few things that fellow Francophones-to-be may find useful. Do keep in mind that I was a Maryland resident and the process in your state may differ slightly. Click here to find your consulate.
Finally, a suggested packing list. I knew I was carrying everything I wanted to bring on my back so that really narrowed down the items I packed. I am making a trip home for the holidays, though, so I have a pile of "round two" items still at home in Baltimore.
- Start your planning process as soon as possible. I spent a long time trolling the internet and talking to people who had recently pulled off an international move. It seems overwhelming, but get as many opinions and as much advice as possible before you even settle on your decision. You may find that moving to France is not really a good idea for you at this particular moment and it will save you a lot of money and time if you figure that out BEFORE you go.
- You're up for the move, eh? If you're a US citizen going to France for any longer than 3 months, you will need a visa. There are several types of visas, as explained in detail here. The type of visa you get is determined by what you plan to do while you're in France.
- Work Visa: Unless there is someone in France who is trying to hire you or your current company has some sort of set up overseas and they are going to hook you up, you are probably NOT eligible for a work visa. You can't just roll into France and try to get a full time job if you don't have a work visa. Even if you did show up and somehow got a job (which is unlikely because you need your visa number to fill out any kind of hiring paperwork and to deposit money into a French bank account and for... anything...), you could be deported if you stay longer than three months without a visa.
- Long Stay Visitor Visa: This is for people who are just planning to go hang out in France for a while. You know, the Ernest Hemmingway types, who have inordinate amounts of time to "find themselves." As romantic as this sounds, it DOES NOT allow you to hold any kind of job while you are in France, so unless the amount of time you have to kill is equal to the amount of money you have to throw around, this may not be your best bet. If this sounds like what you want to do, be prepared to show proof that you got it like that: bring several current copies of your bank statements.
- Student Visa: This is the route I took. It's fairly easy to acquire and it allows you to work up to 20 hours per week without getting in trouble with the immigration office. You must apply to your school and be accepted before you can apply for your visa. Determine what you plan to study (in my case, French) and find schools that meet your needs. I also had to complete a profile on CampusFrance, which basically registers you as a student in the nation of France. There is a helpful step by step explanation of the student visa application here and more general information about studying in France here. For more information about learning French in France, click here.
- Other Types of Visas: There are other ways to get into the country and stay there but I will be completely honest and admit that I didn't look into those since they didn't pertain to me. You can get a visa by marrying a French person or being a diplomat. In these cases, check out the consulate website for more information.
- Now that you know what visa you need, it's time to get your paperwork in order. And believe me, there is plenty of it to complete. Read the consulate website THOROUGHLY. Now read it again. Here is the list of documents I had to provide for my student visa and here is the link to the long form applications and here is the link to the immigration (OFII) forms that you also need to bring with you. The documents for the types of visas vary so make sure you're looking at the right list. Jason, for example, had to get his birth certificate translated and submit his bank routing information because he will actually be working a full time job in France. Be aware of this when putting together your documents.
- Note: The DC consulate website also said that I needed to show proof of health insurance for the duration of my stay, so, like a good little American, I went out and got some. Cost me over $500 for four months and the consulate didn't even ask about it. Now, I don't know if they just missed it or forgot to ask or what but I certainly wish I had that $500 back if they weren't really going to require it. Just a heads up.
- Once you have assembled all the documents, make at least three copies of all of them, just in case. You should also organize everything in a binder or folder or some way that looks like you actually know what's going on. I know this may seem excessive, but they definitely look more favorably upon those who show up with their shit together.
- Make your visa appointment. I was required to have my plane ticket already purchased to prove that I was leaving the US within 90 days of being granted a visa. It takes 2-3 weeks to process your visa so you should book your flight for more than 3 weeks after your appointment but not more than 3 months after your appointment. Don't be like me and try to make things happen in a week and a half. It worked out, thankfully, but those were the 10 most stressful days of my life.
- Show up at the consulate. There is no visa-by-mail; you have to be there in person. Bring everything they told you to bring. Look presentable. You don't need a suit and tie or anything but maybe save the jeggings and hoodies for after your appointment. They do speak English, so don't worry if you don't know any French yet, but it doesn't hurt to greet them with a friendly Bonjour.
- After my initial appointment, they gave me my passport back and told me I would get a letter stating if my visa had been approved or not. I had to go back to the consulate to have my actual visa put in, about 8 days later. As I said, it usually takes about two to three weeks for all your visa paperwork to be processed so don't plan on going anywhere during those two to three weeks. Also, be prepared to make another trip to the consulte. This might be annoying for someone who lives a bit farther away than I did so brace yourself for it now.
- Again, please recall that all of this information was for the process at the DC consulate. When I got my visa for Spain from the New York City consulate, I only had to appear once and they mailed my passport back to me with my visa in it. Not sure if this is a difference between France and Spain or between DC and NYC so just be ready for either option.
- If everything was in order and you don't have a record of terrorism, your visa was probably approved. Off to France with you!
- What are you going to do with your car? I am loaning mine to a friend while he helps me pay it off and by the time I get back to the US, I will have something to drive. I am blowing through a lot of my savings to make this trip happen so it will be much easier for me to have a car when I get back rather than trying to buy a new one when I don't have any money left. Don't forget about your insurance, too.
- What are you going to do with your cell phone? Some carries can "unlock" your phone for international use and you just need to get a new SIM card and a new plan. I would NOT recommend trying to get an international plan for an American phone if you're going away for a long time. It's insanely expensive and just not worth it. It might not even work depending on your carrier. More on French cell phone plans at another time.
- What are you going to do with your stuff? I moved out of my house and into Jason's this summer and that really helped me cut down on my property. I sold all of my IKEA furniture on Craigslist and brought only the essentials. I have a few plastic bins of stuff that I want when we come back from France and those are in storage at Jason's parents' place. You can ship things overseas if you want, but it is pretty pricey. I was lucky to find a furnished residence so I didn't have to worry about furniture. If you're moving forever, you may wish to sell what you currently have and invest in some new stuff abroad.
- Have you set up a forwarding address for your mail? My stuff is being sent to my parents.
- Who is your emergency contact in the US if everything falls apart while you're in France or you start an international incident and accidentally blow something up? Seriously. Bailing someone out of jail from across an ocean is not easy. You better have a real good friend back home...
Finally, a suggested packing list. I knew I was carrying everything I wanted to bring on my back so that really narrowed down the items I packed. I am making a trip home for the holidays, though, so I have a pile of "round two" items still at home in Baltimore.
- Clothing: I try to blend in as much as possible when I travel so people won't harass me and the easiest way to do that is to dress like the locals. The French tend to dress up a bit more than Americans so leave your collection of grungy T-shirts at home with the holy sweatpants. Allow yourself a few of these items for kicking around the house or actually working out, but if this is your standard uniform in the US, you might want to upgrade before you leave home. Clothing is a bit more expensive in France and with your other costs of moving abroad, it might be worth it to get some items before you head out. The French also wear nice shoes all the time. Running shoes are for running, not for going out. Nice sneakers (like Pumas or Air Force Ones) are passable, especially amongst the younger crowd. Bring plenty of socks and undies. Depending on where you live in France and when you move, you may need warm outwear. Collapsable/fold up hampers are really handy for when your new duds get dingy!
- Toiletries: They may not have your favorite body wash or shampoo in France. If you're really committed to a particular brand, stock up before you go. Bring a roll of toilet paper if you are moving into your own place right away. There's nothing worse than building up a full bladder after a day of traveling only to find out you have nothing to wipe your ass with. (I found out the hard way. Thank you, Kleenex pocket tissues!)
- Linens: Equally miserable if you're moving into your new home right away is not having a place to rest your head on the first night. Bring sheets (even if they are the wrong size), a blanket and a pillow. You will thank me when you're not laying your head on a pile of sweaters. Bring a set of towels (2 bath, 2 hand, 2 washcloths) so you can wash away the grime of the plane when you get in.
- Dishes/Cookware: I had planned to bring these things but they got bumped for cute shoes and I totally regret it. Even if it's just a couple crappy plastic cups and bowls, it's nice to have something to eat on that you can reuse. It was also emotionally draining to go without cookware and therefore a warm meal for 4 days (my place does not have a microwave), especially because I enjoy cooking. A pot, pan, chef's knife and cutting board go a long way. Don't forget the flatware.
- Sentimental stuff from home: I am not usually one to get homesick because I travel a lot but there is a big difference between going away for a couple weeks and moving across an ocean to live in a completely different culture. You'll want something familiar for those days when you swear to GOD you will punch a BABY if you see one more baguette in a fucking BICYCLE BASKET. I have just a few things on the walls but they have really made my apartment feel that much more like a place I can call home.
- Miscellaneous: Flashlight, plastic bags, battery powered alarm clock, a few office supplies (stapler, tape, scissors, writing utensils) headphones, a binder full of copies your important documents, a French-English dictionary/phrase book if you don't speak French, playing cards, corkscrew. This is wine country, my friend.
- DO NOT BRING ELECTRONICS if at all possible. Seriously, it is just a pain in the ass to deal with adapters and converters and all that business. Just avoid the whole problem by leaving the electronics at home. I have my laptop (for which I had to get a new power cord because the converter shorted out my old one) and my American cell phone which I use exclusively as a digital camera and I charge it via USB on my laptop. That's it. If you want something else, especially like a flat iron or a hair dryer, it's best to get them here. I don't mess around with things that could electrocute me or burn my house down.
For more tips from another source, check out this blog that I found to be pretty helpful.
I hope I could offer some insight for those of you planning to make a move to France. It is a lot of work but so far, it has all been worth it. Good luck and happy travels!
Next time: My first days in France
New Beginnings
Greetings from Bordeaux! Yes, here I am. One of those Americans who moves abroad and starts a blog about the trials and tribulations of being an expat. I know it's a bit silly and super cliché but hear me out. I have several motivations for writing about my experiences: Firstly, I spent a long time preparing for this epic journey by reading blogs from other Americans who quit their normal lives for something more European and I can only hope that I may be of such service to someone else in the same position someday. Secondly, I am here by myself for at least another two months so I need something to pass the time when I am not involved in baguette-eating or wine-drinking (which is a surprisingly significant amount of time at the moment, especially for those of you who know of my love for all things bread and booze). Finally, and probably least flattering, it is out of sheer laziness that I am chronicling my adventures so that I just don't have to repeat myself every time someone asks me what I'm up to these days. "Yes, I am living in Bordeaux now. Yes, they really do eat a ton of cheese. No, I haven't seen a lot of armpit hair but it is November so maybe it's just lurking beneath all the sweaters and scarves." Instead I can simply reply, "Things are great! You should check out my blog!" and I don't come off as the girl who is constantly bragging about her fancy new life in fancy-ass France. I'm already annoyed just thinking about me.
Bragging online is 100% acceptable, though, through the pseudo-anonymity of Internet, and I will forewarn you that it may occur from time to time.
So let's get right to it, shall we? Here's a quick recap of my life for those of you who, like me, are suckers for context and back-story.
I'm Nicole. I grew up in a small town outside of Rochester, NY with my parents and two brothers. When I was 16, I got my first taste of international travel through a four-week summer program at the Universidad de Salamanca in Spain. I learned more Spanish is four weeks than I had in four years of studying at my school back home and my life was forever changed. After high school, I majored in Spanish Teaching at Ithaca College, spent the spring semester of my junior year in Seville, Spain and graduated in 2007. Because of my perceived aptitude for teaching and for lack of a better option, I applied to the Teach For America program and was accepted to teach in Baltimore starting in the fall of 2007. I spent five of the most [insert any adjective here: frustrating? beautiful? terrifying? inspirational?] years of my life working at a public high school in the heart of Baltimore City, teaching Spanish to juniors who often struggled to locate Spain on a map and seniors who would profess "But I do my work!" upon receipt of a failing progress report, in spite the fact they had not completed a single assignment to date. (For the record, I love my students with all of my soul and being. The problem here is not my kids. It is a system that allows, dare I say encourages students to perform at the lowest level possible so that no one, teachers, parents, students, and administrators, don't have to work that hard. But that's another story for another day...)
While living in Baltimore, I met Jason, also known as the love of my life, and we have been together for almost three years. About a year ago, Jason mentioned that he was nearing the end of his PhD in biomedical engineering at Hopkins and he started investigating next steps. When a post-doc research position in Bordeaux came up, we decided it was too good an opportunity to pass up and began making plans to move. After a long summer or researching ways to get me into the country for a year or two, and an even longer fall of paper work and trips to the French consulte, I was granted a student visa and was scheduled to begin my studies of the French language in November.
And so here I am. Just another expat, living life, now with 100% more French!
Next time: The logistics of moving to France
Bragging online is 100% acceptable, though, through the pseudo-anonymity of Internet, and I will forewarn you that it may occur from time to time.
So let's get right to it, shall we? Here's a quick recap of my life for those of you who, like me, are suckers for context and back-story.
I'm Nicole. I grew up in a small town outside of Rochester, NY with my parents and two brothers. When I was 16, I got my first taste of international travel through a four-week summer program at the Universidad de Salamanca in Spain. I learned more Spanish is four weeks than I had in four years of studying at my school back home and my life was forever changed. After high school, I majored in Spanish Teaching at Ithaca College, spent the spring semester of my junior year in Seville, Spain and graduated in 2007. Because of my perceived aptitude for teaching and for lack of a better option, I applied to the Teach For America program and was accepted to teach in Baltimore starting in the fall of 2007. I spent five of the most [insert any adjective here: frustrating? beautiful? terrifying? inspirational?] years of my life working at a public high school in the heart of Baltimore City, teaching Spanish to juniors who often struggled to locate Spain on a map and seniors who would profess "But I do my work!" upon receipt of a failing progress report, in spite the fact they had not completed a single assignment to date. (For the record, I love my students with all of my soul and being. The problem here is not my kids. It is a system that allows, dare I say encourages students to perform at the lowest level possible so that no one, teachers, parents, students, and administrators, don't have to work that hard. But that's another story for another day...)
While living in Baltimore, I met Jason, also known as the love of my life, and we have been together for almost three years. About a year ago, Jason mentioned that he was nearing the end of his PhD in biomedical engineering at Hopkins and he started investigating next steps. When a post-doc research position in Bordeaux came up, we decided it was too good an opportunity to pass up and began making plans to move. After a long summer or researching ways to get me into the country for a year or two, and an even longer fall of paper work and trips to the French consulte, I was granted a student visa and was scheduled to begin my studies of the French language in November.
And so here I am. Just another expat, living life, now with 100% more French!
Next time: The logistics of moving to France
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