So what's new?
I wish I had I better answer for that. Nothing, really. I have classes at Campus de Bissy through July but after that I don't really know what I'll be doing with my life. I have applied to a bunch of schools and the regional school system but I am still waiting to hear back. The system needs a copy of my diploma from Ithaca, which obviously did not make the cut of things that came to France but I'll figure it out. There are massive unknowns all up in my life right now and I am desperately trying to keep my ultra-Type-A-compulsive-planning self from imploding. I am slowly learning how to take things in stride but it has not been easy.
And on the topic of things I have to get used to, now that Jason is kind of a big deal, he has a lot more traveling lined up and I have to adjust to being by myself more often. He has been back in the US for the last couple weeks for a conference and he has his commencement ceremony tomorrow. I am not a huge fan of being alone but I know how much all of this means for his career. I am super proud of him and I am sad I can't be there for his graduation, but with only one of us really working at the moment, and wedding season coming up this summer, it was tough to justify buying another plane ticket. Oh well. I have a bottle of champagne waiting for his return on Sunday and we will both be back in the US together in August.
Speaking of Jason and weddings... aren't you guys getting married?
I guess that's typically what happens shortly after you get engaged, isn't it? Did you know that it's really hard to plan a wedding from another continent, even with a very committed team of people back home? We have made the decision to wait until we get back from this French adventure to get married. It will be nice to be able to spend some time with friends and family, both before and after the wedding rather than trying to squeeze it in to some random weekend when we're home for two seconds. Plus, all those handy kitchen appliances that people love to give as wedding gifts will not work in the outlets over here. Womp womp.
Despite the random stretches of time apart and the inherent stresses of moving to a country where you have a rudimentary command of the language, things are really great with us. This whole experience has already helped both of us grow as individuals and as a couple. I am coming to understand that the world will not end if I am not in complete control 100% of the time. Somehow, I have learned to be more self-sufficient but also how to depend on others and ask for help. Jason's big lesson is patience. Nothing goes as fast or works as immediately as he'd like but it's okay. It will happen and in the meantime, there's no use getting upset about it.
Has any of the magic of living the expat dream worn off yet?
I don't want to burst anyone's bubble, but "magical" may be a bit of an exaggeration. Bordeaux is beautiful and I really like it here but living in France is not drastically different from living in the US. Biggest differences: Food is of way better quality and therefore it's better for you and somehow it's cheaper that junk food. I have amazing wine and cheese and bread within three seconds of me at any time. There are buildings here that have been around for centuries before my country was even a twinkle in our forefathers' eyes. It's amazing to be surrounded by all this history all the time but because I'm not a tourist but a resident, I look at it all with through a different lens. I am definitely taking my time and enjoying just living here, instead of running around trying to do as much as possible like I usually do when I travel.
A big thing I have noticed lately: People give way less of a shit about everything here, which is both a blessing and a curse. If someone gets upset, they'll mumble some passive aggressive remark under their breath but then move on because it's just not worth fighting about. (Except this guy. He really didn't like gays.) The French do, however, love to debate when it comes to politics and they are typically a bit more informed than the average American. I try to avoid these discussions because I am always grossly underprepared. They are also a huge fan of strikes and manifestations. They must be effective or they wouldn't happen all the time. It's slightly inconvenient when you need to get somewhere and the trains are blocked but hey. Fight for what you believe in, right?
Perhaps it's the socialism, but there just isn't the same sense of competition here as I felt in the US. I always felt like everyone back home had something to prove but here, the dream is to have an okay job and stay in it forever. It's not quite the defining factor that it is in the States. In France, your job is just that thing you do 35 hours of the week between eating baguettes and drinking coffee. I might be a bit too work-oriented to be okay with that (hence my frustration in still not having a real job) but at the same time, I appreciate their focus on family and leisure activities.
What do you miss most about the US?
I miss my rugby team a lot. I never got around to checking out the team here. For a while, I used the weather as an excuse and that it was kind of tough to get to from my old place but neither of those things are true anymore. I was also claiming that I wanted to spend more time with Jason when he got here but now that we're both a little more settled into life here, I know he would 100% support me if I wanted to go out for the team. Along those lines, I miss being physically active. I haven't put on weight or anything because I walk like a million miles a day but it's not quite the same is being fit. Skinny = out. Strong = in.
I miss having close friends. There's no substitute for time and when people have been in your life for years and watched you evolve, it's impossible to have someone new just roll in a try to fill that place. That's hard. But this is also just part of being an adult so it's not France's fault. I'm not mad at you, France!
I miss Mexican food. You just can't get it here.
Anything that you're glad to have left behind?
It was definitely time to leave my school so that worked out nicely. I very much miss having a classroom (and an income fitting of a 28-year-old with a Masters degree) but I think it was good for me to put this distance between me and what had become a negative environment. I have a chance to step back and reflect on my time in the classroom before going back and doing an even better job than before.
As much as I loved all my roommates, I am glad that it's just Jason and I for the moment. Doing other people's dishes was getting old.
Much to my surprise, I don't miss driving and I have adjusted to the random store hours. I just plan better and we all know how much I love plans. Another hidden benefit of moving to France: my relationship with my dad is the best it has been in probably 15 years. We never had huge issues or anything but I turned into an angst-ridden independent teenager and we just stopped hanging out as much as we used to. (Truth be told, I don't know why anyone hung out with me during that time. Yikes!) Once I left Rochester, we hardly ever spoke except when I was home or my parents were visiting. Now, we Google Hangout about once a week and chat like old buddies. It's AWESOME. Thank you, Google, for helping me remember how much I love my dad!
Final thoughts on France for the moment?
Even if it's not the romantic fantasy world of the silver screen, I am still feeling pretty lucky to be here. It's crazy to think how much my life has changed in the last year and despite the small hiccups here and there, I'd say it has been tremendously positive. I speak French now, which is pretty cool. No one believes that I'm French yet but they also don't automatically assume I'm American, which is a pretty huge compliment in terms of language skills. Sorry, fellow anglophones. It's not our fault the sounds in French and English are nothing alike! I feel comfortable here and that's a big hurdle to get over. It's hard to be homesick when you've made a kick-ass new home for yourself.
I live in France and it's pretty great.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Monday, May 13, 2013
Assorted Thoughts
Why do we still have this washing machine that doesn't work, cluttering up our bathroom? I have been promised that someone will contact me concerning it's removal and replacement, but no such contact has taken place. Irritation abounds.
This whole month the temperatures have been in the 50s and 60s with rain almost everyday. It's not as bad as the winter but still, this is ridiculous. It's almost June. Where's the heat?
I never watched Miami Ink in the US, but I am obsessed with it now that there's French dubbing. Random, I know, but I can't get enough.
Jason and I are growing pepper plants from some seeds his dad sent us. I was embarrassingly excited on the day I first saw the sprouts finally start to peek up out of the soil. I did a little dance and may have even squealed. Don't judge. Nature is awesome.
Is it wrong to be jealous of a three-year-old's shoe collection? This little girl is more fashionable than me and I don't know if I'm comfortable with it.
I met a man from Senegal at the prefecture the other day and it turned out that he works at this taco restaurant down the street. In my eagerness to eat tacos and potentially pick up a summer job, we exchanged phone numbers. Unfortunately, he dropped the "You are just so beautiful" bombshell one day and I have managed to dodge all of his attempts at communication since. Why can't you be more like the guys at the kebab place and just wave to me from afar, offering me discounted meals when I come in wasted at 1:30am? By the way, the tacos were good but they're not real tacos.
I love grammar but I hate pointless grammar exercises. There is no good reason for mechanical fill-in drills that have no relation to our communicative goals. The 1970s called. They want their foreign language instructional methods back.
For the first time in the 28 years of my life, I legitimately skipped school and went to the beach. It was worth it, but I still felt guilty. Seriously, Nicole? Nerd.
I was cat-sitting for one of Jason's co-workers earlier this month and it made me really miss Carlos. Huggie the rental cat was cool, too, but definitely not anywhere even close to my buddy Carlito! Full blown cat-lady status: achieved!
This whole month the temperatures have been in the 50s and 60s with rain almost everyday. It's not as bad as the winter but still, this is ridiculous. It's almost June. Where's the heat?
I never watched Miami Ink in the US, but I am obsessed with it now that there's French dubbing. Random, I know, but I can't get enough.
Jason and I are growing pepper plants from some seeds his dad sent us. I was embarrassingly excited on the day I first saw the sprouts finally start to peek up out of the soil. I did a little dance and may have even squealed. Don't judge. Nature is awesome.
Is it wrong to be jealous of a three-year-old's shoe collection? This little girl is more fashionable than me and I don't know if I'm comfortable with it.
I met a man from Senegal at the prefecture the other day and it turned out that he works at this taco restaurant down the street. In my eagerness to eat tacos and potentially pick up a summer job, we exchanged phone numbers. Unfortunately, he dropped the "You are just so beautiful" bombshell one day and I have managed to dodge all of his attempts at communication since. Why can't you be more like the guys at the kebab place and just wave to me from afar, offering me discounted meals when I come in wasted at 1:30am? By the way, the tacos were good but they're not real tacos.
I love grammar but I hate pointless grammar exercises. There is no good reason for mechanical fill-in drills that have no relation to our communicative goals. The 1970s called. They want their foreign language instructional methods back.
For the first time in the 28 years of my life, I legitimately skipped school and went to the beach. It was worth it, but I still felt guilty. Seriously, Nicole? Nerd.
I was cat-sitting for one of Jason's co-workers earlier this month and it made me really miss Carlos. Huggie the rental cat was cool, too, but definitely not anywhere even close to my buddy Carlito! Full blown cat-lady status: achieved!
 |
| Carlos, you are crazy and I love you. |
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Suck It Up
Recently said in conversation by a straight man: "This gay guy was hitting on me the other day. He was like looking me up and down and saying stuff like, 'Hey baby. You wanna come home with me?' I was so creeped out!" Everyone agreed that this was totally inappropriate and sympathized. "Poor thing! That must have been so awful for you!"
It's kind of petty but it really irked me. Why? Because this happens to me nearly EVERY DAY. Everyone's sitting around feeling bad that this dude had to put up with an awkward sexual advance for three seconds while I can't walk down the street without someone making a comment, a gesture, or a look that lasted just a bit too long for my comfort. I can't count the number of times where I have been made to feel uncomfortable by some man who just assumed it was okay to tell me "what my ass was doing to him." You keep your body parts and functions to yourself, sir. Don't come over here and put your arm around my shoulder or try to slip a hand around my waist. I don't know you and I didn't ask you to touch me. Don't stare at me from across the bar, through slitted eyes, licking your lips like some fiend. It's gross. You're gross, and I want you to go away.
I don't think men realize how easy they've got it on this one. So maybe once in a blue moon you get hit on by someone you aren't interested in. Big frickin deal, dudes. Someone putting the moves on you at the bar? You tell them to fuck off and 99% of the time that's where it ends. Women are not so lucky. I tell a guy to get out of my face and he thinks I'm playing hard to get. He proceeds to stalk me and continue to make advances for the rest of the night or until I get fed up and decide to leave. Now I'm outside at night and, since I don't live in a sorority house, I might end up walking some of my route home by myself. Yeah, sometimes men get mugged when walking home alone, which is certainly scary, but how often do you legitimately fear that you might get raped on the way to your house? Oh, you never thought about it? Y'all have a zombie apocalypse plan. We have a rape escape plan. Why do we need a rape escape plan? Because since the moment we could walk without mommy or daddy holding our hands, we were taught to never walk anywhere alone ever, and if you do, here's your rape!
Maybe I'm taking it too far. Obviously, not every pick up line results in someone getting sexually assaulted. Hell, not every sexual advance is unwelcome. I'm just saying that there is an astronomically greater number of women on the receiving end of unwanted sexual comments and behavior. On the job, at the bar, in the street... And let's not even get into all the reasons that somehow it was my fault. Well, were you being too nice? Were you wearing something revealing? Were you walking by yourself? So I have to be a sweater-clad bitch that always travels with a body guard to avoid sexual harassment? I swear there's an easier solution to this problem but my silly female brain just can't figure it out!
Come on, guys. I know that most of you are better than that. Now if you could just get your less evolved brethren on board, I think we might be okay.
I'm sorry that you, sir, were temporarily put off by this other person's actions. Maybe now you have just the slightest idea of what it's like to be a woman.
It's kind of petty but it really irked me. Why? Because this happens to me nearly EVERY DAY. Everyone's sitting around feeling bad that this dude had to put up with an awkward sexual advance for three seconds while I can't walk down the street without someone making a comment, a gesture, or a look that lasted just a bit too long for my comfort. I can't count the number of times where I have been made to feel uncomfortable by some man who just assumed it was okay to tell me "what my ass was doing to him." You keep your body parts and functions to yourself, sir. Don't come over here and put your arm around my shoulder or try to slip a hand around my waist. I don't know you and I didn't ask you to touch me. Don't stare at me from across the bar, through slitted eyes, licking your lips like some fiend. It's gross. You're gross, and I want you to go away.
I don't think men realize how easy they've got it on this one. So maybe once in a blue moon you get hit on by someone you aren't interested in. Big frickin deal, dudes. Someone putting the moves on you at the bar? You tell them to fuck off and 99% of the time that's where it ends. Women are not so lucky. I tell a guy to get out of my face and he thinks I'm playing hard to get. He proceeds to stalk me and continue to make advances for the rest of the night or until I get fed up and decide to leave. Now I'm outside at night and, since I don't live in a sorority house, I might end up walking some of my route home by myself. Yeah, sometimes men get mugged when walking home alone, which is certainly scary, but how often do you legitimately fear that you might get raped on the way to your house? Oh, you never thought about it? Y'all have a zombie apocalypse plan. We have a rape escape plan. Why do we need a rape escape plan? Because since the moment we could walk without mommy or daddy holding our hands, we were taught to never walk anywhere alone ever, and if you do, here's your rape!
Maybe I'm taking it too far. Obviously, not every pick up line results in someone getting sexually assaulted. Hell, not every sexual advance is unwelcome. I'm just saying that there is an astronomically greater number of women on the receiving end of unwanted sexual comments and behavior. On the job, at the bar, in the street... And let's not even get into all the reasons that somehow it was my fault. Well, were you being too nice? Were you wearing something revealing? Were you walking by yourself? So I have to be a sweater-clad bitch that always travels with a body guard to avoid sexual harassment? I swear there's an easier solution to this problem but my silly female brain just can't figure it out!
Come on, guys. I know that most of you are better than that. Now if you could just get your less evolved brethren on board, I think we might be okay.
I'm sorry that you, sir, were temporarily put off by this other person's actions. Maybe now you have just the slightest idea of what it's like to be a woman.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Time Flies
Aaaannnnd then it was the end of April.
Since I was able to hold a pencil and make the thoughts in my head appear on paper, I have kept a journal of some sort. In all that time, however, I have never managed to perfect the art of consistent updates and it appears as though my blog is no different. Cool things are happening over here and I'm keeping them all to myself! My bad, faithful readers. My bad.
It's been a pretty good month. Here are the highlights:
Week 1: Setting up house was a no joke situation. On the Friday we were expecting the furniture, I had to get up at the crack of dawn because the delivery was scheduled between 7 and 11am. The dude was there at 7:30 and his old ass was hauling everything up four flights of stairs by himself. I was impressed. Ashley was instrumental in the whole process. Not only did she help me carry stuff from the old place at 6am but she stayed the whole day to assemble furniture and scrub walls with me. She provided a much needed service, I provided beer and food. Clutch. By Friday night, Jason and I had a real bed to sleep in and it was glorious. Check out our new digs!
Week 2: Woooooo! Spring Break! Yeah, not so much. I traded in margaritas on the beach for sponges in some bleach this year, thus signaling the official end of my youth. Goodbye, niKKers. It was fun while it lasted. I don't even have a sexy French maid outfit so there was certainly nothing glamorous about my cleaning spree, but it was essential. If we had waited until the landlord replaced the carpet and painted the walls, we'd still be living at the old place right now and that simply wasn't going to cut it. I almost threw my back out scrubbing 15 years worth of smoke stains off the walls but it was well worth it. We had some of Jason's co-workers over for a nice dinner on Friday and I was rewarded for all my hard work with a trip to the beach on Sunday. I got to put on my bikini after all! It was still much too cold to swim but who goes to the beach to swim anyway?
Week 3: Back to school. For about a month, all of my classmates had commitments outside of school and I was getting private classes every day. It was weird at first but then I realized the awesome potential of being able to learn exactly what I wanted at my own pace and I was a little sad when people started coming back to class. I love them and all, but I was really learning some French there for a minute. Things were a little whacky right before break because Elisabeth was out sick and Mylène is gone for the rest of the year because of her baby so nothing got done. When we got back, we had to take the exams we were supposed to do the week before. Apparently, it was the end of the term and students had the opportunity to move up a level if they passed these exams. I am already at the highest level they offer so it's no big deal for me, but last week, a whole bunch of people moved up to my level and my days of being the only student are over. It's a good bunch, though, and I am happy to have more friends but I am not a huge fan of our new teacher, Carolyne. For someone who is trying to get her students to speak a new language, she sure does talk an awful lot. We're the ones who need speaking practice, not you, ma'am.
We celebrated Ashley's 25th birthday on the 18th. It was an irresponsibly good time. I guess I was making up for my lack of aggressive partying during spring break and I was not a happy camper on Friday. By Saturday I was feeling alive again and Jason and I decided to go to a rugby game. The Bordeaux team was having its last home game and we were lucky to get tickets at the door. The place was PACKED. It was my first live professional rugby match and it was a blast. Oh and Bordeaux won 16-0! Allez, UBB! On Sunday, we were at Ed's place for Felix's birthday party and that was pretty darn cute. We got him some books and a shovel, which were a big hit. He's 3. He likes everything.
Week 4 to now: Nothing crazy. Been spending some quality time with Jason's friends, including some cats that I love, and I even saw Hunter a Louis for the first time in about a month. We had them over for tacos last Friday and then we went over to this other guy's place to make dumplings on Sunday. Real Chinese food is so good. We bought a TV and we have ESPN America, which Jason is pretty excited about and I am excited about practicing my listening skills more regularly. We also bought a washing machine but we ran one load and it was shaking and banging so much we stopped it and discovered that one of the mounting brackets was broken (not our fault). We're waiting for them to determine if it's more cost effective to repair it or just give us a new one. In the meantime, I am out of shirts so I hope it gets warm enough for dresses real soon. Four is too many flights of stairs to be lugging laundry to and from the laundromat.
Tomorrow is La Fête du Travail (Labor Day) and everyone has the day off, including bus and tram drivers, so we have stocked up on beer and wine and snacks and Netflix movies. Gonna be a sweet day of sitting in the house doing nothing. Jason's cooking so I better go pretend I know how to help him prepare rabbit with fennel, mushrooms and spinach. You know, a typical Tuesday night meal.
Later, skaters.
Since I was able to hold a pencil and make the thoughts in my head appear on paper, I have kept a journal of some sort. In all that time, however, I have never managed to perfect the art of consistent updates and it appears as though my blog is no different. Cool things are happening over here and I'm keeping them all to myself! My bad, faithful readers. My bad.
It's been a pretty good month. Here are the highlights:
Week 1: Setting up house was a no joke situation. On the Friday we were expecting the furniture, I had to get up at the crack of dawn because the delivery was scheduled between 7 and 11am. The dude was there at 7:30 and his old ass was hauling everything up four flights of stairs by himself. I was impressed. Ashley was instrumental in the whole process. Not only did she help me carry stuff from the old place at 6am but she stayed the whole day to assemble furniture and scrub walls with me. She provided a much needed service, I provided beer and food. Clutch. By Friday night, Jason and I had a real bed to sleep in and it was glorious. Check out our new digs!
Week 2: Woooooo! Spring Break! Yeah, not so much. I traded in margaritas on the beach for sponges in some bleach this year, thus signaling the official end of my youth. Goodbye, niKKers. It was fun while it lasted. I don't even have a sexy French maid outfit so there was certainly nothing glamorous about my cleaning spree, but it was essential. If we had waited until the landlord replaced the carpet and painted the walls, we'd still be living at the old place right now and that simply wasn't going to cut it. I almost threw my back out scrubbing 15 years worth of smoke stains off the walls but it was well worth it. We had some of Jason's co-workers over for a nice dinner on Friday and I was rewarded for all my hard work with a trip to the beach on Sunday. I got to put on my bikini after all! It was still much too cold to swim but who goes to the beach to swim anyway?
 |
| Lacanau Beach |
Week 3: Back to school. For about a month, all of my classmates had commitments outside of school and I was getting private classes every day. It was weird at first but then I realized the awesome potential of being able to learn exactly what I wanted at my own pace and I was a little sad when people started coming back to class. I love them and all, but I was really learning some French there for a minute. Things were a little whacky right before break because Elisabeth was out sick and Mylène is gone for the rest of the year because of her baby so nothing got done. When we got back, we had to take the exams we were supposed to do the week before. Apparently, it was the end of the term and students had the opportunity to move up a level if they passed these exams. I am already at the highest level they offer so it's no big deal for me, but last week, a whole bunch of people moved up to my level and my days of being the only student are over. It's a good bunch, though, and I am happy to have more friends but I am not a huge fan of our new teacher, Carolyne. For someone who is trying to get her students to speak a new language, she sure does talk an awful lot. We're the ones who need speaking practice, not you, ma'am.
We celebrated Ashley's 25th birthday on the 18th. It was an irresponsibly good time. I guess I was making up for my lack of aggressive partying during spring break and I was not a happy camper on Friday. By Saturday I was feeling alive again and Jason and I decided to go to a rugby game. The Bordeaux team was having its last home game and we were lucky to get tickets at the door. The place was PACKED. It was my first live professional rugby match and it was a blast. Oh and Bordeaux won 16-0! Allez, UBB! On Sunday, we were at Ed's place for Felix's birthday party and that was pretty darn cute. We got him some books and a shovel, which were a big hit. He's 3. He likes everything.
 |
| I WILL get one of those flags. |
Week 4 to now: Nothing crazy. Been spending some quality time with Jason's friends, including some cats that I love, and I even saw Hunter a Louis for the first time in about a month. We had them over for tacos last Friday and then we went over to this other guy's place to make dumplings on Sunday. Real Chinese food is so good. We bought a TV and we have ESPN America, which Jason is pretty excited about and I am excited about practicing my listening skills more regularly. We also bought a washing machine but we ran one load and it was shaking and banging so much we stopped it and discovered that one of the mounting brackets was broken (not our fault). We're waiting for them to determine if it's more cost effective to repair it or just give us a new one. In the meantime, I am out of shirts so I hope it gets warm enough for dresses real soon. Four is too many flights of stairs to be lugging laundry to and from the laundromat.
 |
| Jason making a friend |
 |
| And I'm the cat lady? |
 |
| Mousse and Tira, my new BFFs |
Tomorrow is La Fête du Travail (Labor Day) and everyone has the day off, including bus and tram drivers, so we have stocked up on beer and wine and snacks and Netflix movies. Gonna be a sweet day of sitting in the house doing nothing. Jason's cooking so I better go pretend I know how to help him prepare rabbit with fennel, mushrooms and spinach. You know, a typical Tuesday night meal.
Later, skaters.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Finding Home Sweet Home
So you want to rent an apartment in France, do you? GIVE UP. IT'S IMPOSSIBLE.
Okay, that's not true, but it's certainly no easy feat and it seems that there isn't a lot of information out there on how the whole rental process works in France. What is out there is a lot of conflicting ideas and incomplete answers. I will attempt to shed some light on the situation and hopefully you'll have an easier time of it than I have had. You should keep in mind, however, that the property owners and rental agencies vary GREATLY and you may have a completely different experience. That has been a large part of my frustration but read on and all will be explained...
Pro Tip 1: Buy yourself some time to get to know your new city by having a temporary place to live lined up before you arrive. It could be with a friend, a French family (exchange student-style) in a student residence, or at an appart-hotel. All these places will afford you some basic comforts without the cost of a full blown hotel while you figure your life out. My "studio" is really just a dorm room in the suburbs but at least I had a place to sleep and put my stuff the day I got here.
Pro Tip 2: Even with temporary housing, you have to give between one and three months' notice before you can leave. If you hate your place, let your landlords know immediately so that you can move sooner rather than later. Early lease termination is sometimes possible but not always easy so just be aware.
Throughout January and February, long stretches of my days were dedicated to trolling the internet for available apartments. I started out by just Googling "location appartement bordeaux" and finally stumbled across some useful websites where I could enter my search criteria and they populated a list of places that matched. Try these:
By early March, I found a pretty ideal place through Century 21. It was close to tram and bus lines, right up the street from Auchan, just a few minutes from Centre Ville and the quai. I was eager to get the paperwork signed because I was hoping to have the place set up by the time Jason arrived.
NOPE.
There's no credit check in France so you have to prove you have the money to pay your rent. Here is what a typical housing application file will include in France:
Once you have gathered a small forest's worth of papers, you may also be asked to find a garant (sometimes also called a caution). It's explained very well here (in French) but the long story short is that they are a co-signer so that in the event that you don't pay your rent, the agency will come after your garant for the money. This was completely insane to me, but apparently it is normal in France. The law here is very much in favor of the renter. Landlords cannot evict you in the winter and it can take up to two years to kick you out, regardless of the season, even if you don't pay your rent during that whole period. When I learned this, it made sense why some of these apartments were available for so long. Better to take a month to find the right person than to rent to the first bum off the street who might not pay anything at all after the deposit and first month.
Sometimes all a garant has to do is sign the lease along with you, as was the case with Ashley and Guillaume. His mom rolled up and with a flick of a pen, they had a new place to live. Not so in our case, even though we were also going through Century 21. (WTF??) The agent needed the garant to provide all of the documents that we had provided. I was floored. I have been here for four months and the only people I know are my Chinese classmates and my teachers. There's no way I could ask any of them for all that stuff. Jason arrived the day after I got this news and we asked around at his job to see if anyone was willing or able to do it. Some people said it was normal for agencies to require it and they had their parents do it for them, others said it was completely outrageous. Either way, no one was volunteering. Even though we had proved we had the money for it (and then some), we still needed someone to sign with us.
Back to the drawing board.
Pro Tip 3: When you find a place you like, ask up front if they will require a garant. You may need to explain your situation and provide some documents about it, but it's better than getting your hopes up, only to be told you will be systematically denied for lack of a garant. If you absolutely need one and don't know anyone in France, you may be able to get one through a company. Check out Loca-pass and this website, which is a registry of companies that may offer you garant services if you don't know any French people. Be aware, though: We didn't qualify for these because we're too old and because Jason has a real job. Oh well.
What ultimately led me to finding our new apartment was the French version of Craigslist: Le Bon Coin. You can search for pretty much anything on there, including apartments. Armed with the knowledge from my failed initial attempts and a bit of urgency since sharing a twin bed is the worst thing ever, I was on the hunt again. I now knew the right questions to ask (When is the apartment available? Do you require a garant? How much is due up front?) and didn't waste time going on visits to places that weren't going to work out anyway.
Pro Tip 4: If you're anything like me, you will be tempted by big-name agencies because you will think them to be more credible. This may not be the case. Some agencies are bums and will not take care of problems in your apartment if you have them. Your colleagues may offer a friend of a friend who knows a guy who has a place to rent. Against your American judgement, this might be your best bet. They probably won't charge you an agency fee and they might treat you better because you're a friend (of a friend of a friend). YOU JUST NEVER KNOW. Ask around as much as possible to get a feel for the rental climate in your area.
Once I figured it out, it really wasn't too difficult. I saw the ad two weeks ago on a Monday and replied to it, I set up a visit for later that week, I brought my application file with me and gave it to her that day. Two days later, she called me and told me our application had been accepted. I had to go by the agency and pay the deposit last week. Today, we had our état des lieux meeting, in which you go through everything in the house and write down it's condition, and then she handed us the keys. The furniture is being dropped off on Friday and we'll be sleeping in a real bed by this weekend! We thought of furnishing the place via Le Bon Coin as well but since we don't have a car and the new apartment is on the top floor of the building, we just decided to buy everything from Ikea and have it delivered. Problem solved.
Why someone couldn't have just told me all that when I got here, I don't know, but I figured it out and I am glad it's over. I hope that this post can help other poor souls looking for a place to live in France. This website is also incredibly useful. That link is the housing page but they have all kinds of other information for anglophones, too. It is a long and arduous process but it's a pretty good feeling to be living in a place that I actually enjoy coming home to. Worth it.
Can't wait to throw a housewarming party!!
Okay, that's not true, but it's certainly no easy feat and it seems that there isn't a lot of information out there on how the whole rental process works in France. What is out there is a lot of conflicting ideas and incomplete answers. I will attempt to shed some light on the situation and hopefully you'll have an easier time of it than I have had. You should keep in mind, however, that the property owners and rental agencies vary GREATLY and you may have a completely different experience. That has been a large part of my frustration but read on and all will be explained...
Pro Tip 1: Buy yourself some time to get to know your new city by having a temporary place to live lined up before you arrive. It could be with a friend, a French family (exchange student-style) in a student residence, or at an appart-hotel. All these places will afford you some basic comforts without the cost of a full blown hotel while you figure your life out. My "studio" is really just a dorm room in the suburbs but at least I had a place to sleep and put my stuff the day I got here.
Pro Tip 2: Even with temporary housing, you have to give between one and three months' notice before you can leave. If you hate your place, let your landlords know immediately so that you can move sooner rather than later. Early lease termination is sometimes possible but not always easy so just be aware.
Throughout January and February, long stretches of my days were dedicated to trolling the internet for available apartments. I started out by just Googling "location appartement bordeaux" and finally stumbled across some useful websites where I could enter my search criteria and they populated a list of places that matched. Try these:
- Se Loger: There's a French version (which may be more complete) and an English version (which is sometimes just in French...)
- Nexity
- Century21
- Foncia
- La Forêt
By early March, I found a pretty ideal place through Century 21. It was close to tram and bus lines, right up the street from Auchan, just a few minutes from Centre Ville and the quai. I was eager to get the paperwork signed because I was hoping to have the place set up by the time Jason arrived.
NOPE.
There's no credit check in France so you have to prove you have the money to pay your rent. Here is what a typical housing application file will include in France:
- Copies of your ID (passport)
- Bank account information (RIB)
- Work contract and/or bank statements proving that you can pay the rent
- It is the law in France that you cannot rent an apartment that is more than one-third your net monthly income.
- Last three pay stubs
- Last two income tax statements
- Proof of current address in France (gas/electric/water/landline phone bill)
- Your cell phone bill is not sufficient
- Copy of previous lease agreement
Once you have gathered a small forest's worth of papers, you may also be asked to find a garant (sometimes also called a caution). It's explained very well here (in French) but the long story short is that they are a co-signer so that in the event that you don't pay your rent, the agency will come after your garant for the money. This was completely insane to me, but apparently it is normal in France. The law here is very much in favor of the renter. Landlords cannot evict you in the winter and it can take up to two years to kick you out, regardless of the season, even if you don't pay your rent during that whole period. When I learned this, it made sense why some of these apartments were available for so long. Better to take a month to find the right person than to rent to the first bum off the street who might not pay anything at all after the deposit and first month.
Sometimes all a garant has to do is sign the lease along with you, as was the case with Ashley and Guillaume. His mom rolled up and with a flick of a pen, they had a new place to live. Not so in our case, even though we were also going through Century 21. (WTF??) The agent needed the garant to provide all of the documents that we had provided. I was floored. I have been here for four months and the only people I know are my Chinese classmates and my teachers. There's no way I could ask any of them for all that stuff. Jason arrived the day after I got this news and we asked around at his job to see if anyone was willing or able to do it. Some people said it was normal for agencies to require it and they had their parents do it for them, others said it was completely outrageous. Either way, no one was volunteering. Even though we had proved we had the money for it (and then some), we still needed someone to sign with us.
Back to the drawing board.
Pro Tip 3: When you find a place you like, ask up front if they will require a garant. You may need to explain your situation and provide some documents about it, but it's better than getting your hopes up, only to be told you will be systematically denied for lack of a garant. If you absolutely need one and don't know anyone in France, you may be able to get one through a company. Check out Loca-pass and this website, which is a registry of companies that may offer you garant services if you don't know any French people. Be aware, though: We didn't qualify for these because we're too old and because Jason has a real job. Oh well.
What ultimately led me to finding our new apartment was the French version of Craigslist: Le Bon Coin. You can search for pretty much anything on there, including apartments. Armed with the knowledge from my failed initial attempts and a bit of urgency since sharing a twin bed is the worst thing ever, I was on the hunt again. I now knew the right questions to ask (When is the apartment available? Do you require a garant? How much is due up front?) and didn't waste time going on visits to places that weren't going to work out anyway.
Pro Tip 4: If you're anything like me, you will be tempted by big-name agencies because you will think them to be more credible. This may not be the case. Some agencies are bums and will not take care of problems in your apartment if you have them. Your colleagues may offer a friend of a friend who knows a guy who has a place to rent. Against your American judgement, this might be your best bet. They probably won't charge you an agency fee and they might treat you better because you're a friend (of a friend of a friend). YOU JUST NEVER KNOW. Ask around as much as possible to get a feel for the rental climate in your area.
Once I figured it out, it really wasn't too difficult. I saw the ad two weeks ago on a Monday and replied to it, I set up a visit for later that week, I brought my application file with me and gave it to her that day. Two days later, she called me and told me our application had been accepted. I had to go by the agency and pay the deposit last week. Today, we had our état des lieux meeting, in which you go through everything in the house and write down it's condition, and then she handed us the keys. The furniture is being dropped off on Friday and we'll be sleeping in a real bed by this weekend! We thought of furnishing the place via Le Bon Coin as well but since we don't have a car and the new apartment is on the top floor of the building, we just decided to buy everything from Ikea and have it delivered. Problem solved.
Why someone couldn't have just told me all that when I got here, I don't know, but I figured it out and I am glad it's over. I hope that this post can help other poor souls looking for a place to live in France. This website is also incredibly useful. That link is the housing page but they have all kinds of other information for anglophones, too. It is a long and arduous process but it's a pretty good feeling to be living in a place that I actually enjoy coming home to. Worth it.
Can't wait to throw a housewarming party!!
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Reunited and It Feels So Good
I have woken up with the refrain from that song stuck in my head every single day because it's exactly how I feel. Jason has been here for just over a week and life has been awesome. We still have a bunch of work to do to get fully established here: the housing situation is still not resolved and we're still in this tiny dorm room. Jason still does not have a bank card or a cell phone. I still have no plan for the fall. But somehow it seems so much more manageable with him here. It's strange because now I have twice as much to do since I am taking on the administrative duties for the both of us, but it seems much less stressful because I enjoy helping him out.
When he got here last Tuesday, I took Jason on a walking tour of the city. He thought it was really beautiful and after seeing Centre Ville, he understood why I was in such a hurry to leave Mérignac. It's not that bad living out in the suburbs, but if you could be living downtown, in a way better apartment for not that much more money, it doesn't really make sense to stay out here.
We stopped at Auchan on the way back from our tour and picked up some stuff for a nice dinner. Jason made me magret du canard with duck fat fries and roasted brussel sprouts. I thought I was doing well in the kitchen and then I remember that Jason really knows what he's doing and I am happy to reclaim my place as sous-chef. Some day soon we'll have a real kitchen again and then it's gonna be on like donkey Kong.
Wednesday was a nice chill day in the house, listening to music and watching movies on Netflix thanks to AirVPN. Another six hours of class toute seule on Thursday so poor Jason was home alone all day but we made up for it by going out for dinner at Parlement des Graves, right off of Ste Catherine. Jason's boss recommended it and it certainly did not disappoint. I explained that this was our first real French meal together, and our server really took the time to pair each course with a good wine and was super attentive. It was a very bordelais meal and I was very satisfied. We stopped next door for a beer and then wandered around before grabbing a night cap on our way home. It's pretty much how we'd spend a nice evening back home except this time with 100% more French!
We slept in on Friday and went to Jason's new lab in the afternoon. Amidst a sea of technical difficulties, it took us a while to find the right building. Technology is only cool when it works. But it was nice seeing the new place and it sounds like it's a pretty ideal situation for Jason. We met a bunch of his co-workers, including this guy Guillaume who has new best friend material written all over him. I was there with some ulterior motives and lamented about our housing situation to anyone who would listen, hoping someone would take pity on us and offer to be our "garant." They all agreed that it seems a bit excessive for this woman to ask for so many documents from us and from a "garant" and they advised that we look elsewhere. It's obnoxious because I keep getting so many conflicting messages about what is normal and expected and what's not, but I will leave the gory details for a post about finding housing once I get it all figured out.
We went to Ed's place in the country on Saturday to hang out and it was a stellar day. It was sunny and warm so we grilled out and it was really fun. His wife and kids are really sweet, too. Good company + good weather + good food = good times, if you ask me. We ended up staying until 11 or so, and I felt kind of bad because Ed had to drive us back to the city in the middle of the night. If they didn't live so far or we had a car of our own, we might hang out there more often.
We wanted to go to the Capucins market on Sunday but we got home so late that we ended up sleeping a little later than anticipated and it didn't happen. Laundry day it is. I was out of socks and underwear anyway. There was also talk of meeting up with Hunter for dinner but Jason wasn't feeling so great so it was probably for the best that he never called me back.
This week it's back to reality. Jason started work on Monday and I am back to working my regular hours. We're going on a field trip tomorrow morning and then I have a test in the afternoon. Ashley and Guillaume have invited us for dinner tomorrow, which should be nice. Friday will be an errands day, like always, but then it's the weekend and I am very much looking forward to spending it with my man.
It's pretty amazing what one really awesome person can do for your mood, isn't it? LOVE IS THE BEST.
When he got here last Tuesday, I took Jason on a walking tour of the city. He thought it was really beautiful and after seeing Centre Ville, he understood why I was in such a hurry to leave Mérignac. It's not that bad living out in the suburbs, but if you could be living downtown, in a way better apartment for not that much more money, it doesn't really make sense to stay out here.
We stopped at Auchan on the way back from our tour and picked up some stuff for a nice dinner. Jason made me magret du canard with duck fat fries and roasted brussel sprouts. I thought I was doing well in the kitchen and then I remember that Jason really knows what he's doing and I am happy to reclaim my place as sous-chef. Some day soon we'll have a real kitchen again and then it's gonna be on like donkey Kong.
 |
| We'll be all making toast... LIKE A BOSS |
We slept in on Friday and went to Jason's new lab in the afternoon. Amidst a sea of technical difficulties, it took us a while to find the right building. Technology is only cool when it works. But it was nice seeing the new place and it sounds like it's a pretty ideal situation for Jason. We met a bunch of his co-workers, including this guy Guillaume who has new best friend material written all over him. I was there with some ulterior motives and lamented about our housing situation to anyone who would listen, hoping someone would take pity on us and offer to be our "garant." They all agreed that it seems a bit excessive for this woman to ask for so many documents from us and from a "garant" and they advised that we look elsewhere. It's obnoxious because I keep getting so many conflicting messages about what is normal and expected and what's not, but I will leave the gory details for a post about finding housing once I get it all figured out.
We went to Ed's place in the country on Saturday to hang out and it was a stellar day. It was sunny and warm so we grilled out and it was really fun. His wife and kids are really sweet, too. Good company + good weather + good food = good times, if you ask me. We ended up staying until 11 or so, and I felt kind of bad because Ed had to drive us back to the city in the middle of the night. If they didn't live so far or we had a car of our own, we might hang out there more often.
We wanted to go to the Capucins market on Sunday but we got home so late that we ended up sleeping a little later than anticipated and it didn't happen. Laundry day it is. I was out of socks and underwear anyway. There was also talk of meeting up with Hunter for dinner but Jason wasn't feeling so great so it was probably for the best that he never called me back.
This week it's back to reality. Jason started work on Monday and I am back to working my regular hours. We're going on a field trip tomorrow morning and then I have a test in the afternoon. Ashley and Guillaume have invited us for dinner tomorrow, which should be nice. Friday will be an errands day, like always, but then it's the weekend and I am very much looking forward to spending it with my man.
It's pretty amazing what one really awesome person can do for your mood, isn't it? LOVE IS THE BEST.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Unpacking Biases
It's about to get real up in here.
This story requires you to know some more about me. My mother is black and my father is white. I grew up in a quiet suburban/rural area and attended a mostly white school district. I had no concept of my race until about middle school when a friend brought it to my attention that my hair was really different from everyone else's. And my nose and lips and skin, for that matter. She brought up an interesting point but I didn't give it much thought.
My family was very well "blended," if you will, and I was part of a racially diverse group of friends, despite the school demographic at large. Aside from having slightly different colored skin, everyone in my life was pretty much the same: well-educated, middle-class, average in every way. No one lived in the ghetto or a trailer park. No one lived in a mansion. We didn't talk about race because it just wasn't an issue.
I went to a private college in the north-east and the majority of students there were white. To me, this was no big deal because it was just like my high school. I hardly even noticed. But there was a distinct difference between the humble, small-town folks I grew up with and the majority of the students at Ithaca: Money.
With money comes privilege and, as I was quickly learning, privilege meant not having to interact with brown people. Brown people might come to clean their houses or manicure their lawns. Brown people might repair their BMWs or bus their tables after their five-star restaurant dinner. But they were not friends with brown people. They didn't talk to brown people. They were maybe even a little afraid of brown people. So afraid they wouldn't even talk about it at full volume. Why did you just whisper black to describe the guy we were hanging out with yesterday?
This seemed odd to me because my understanding of black was almost exclusively isolated to my experience with my friends and my mom's family and this was not the same image I had of minorities. They weren't super rich but they were doing well for themselves. They were articulate and worldly. Progressive. How could it be that I had this notion of black people and theirs was so different?
And then I moved to Baltimore.
Talk about the other end of the spectrum. I went from a predominantly white college, where the average student was paying $38K/year out of pocket because it was well within mommy and daddy's budget, to a city comprised mostly of black people, the majority of which live in poverty. And these were not the black people I knew and loved. They were aggressive, they were ignorant, they were angry. They were in gangs and carried weapons. They were scary.
(The difference between the black people I knew and the black people in Baltimore? Money. But I'll save my rant on socioeconomic status for another day.)
Am I exaggerating? Perhaps a bit. Am I generalizing? Certainly. But keep in mind my frame of reference. My experience to this point had not prepared me to deal with what was happening in this city. Try as they might, the diversity seminars at the TFA institute did not really help me understand what I was getting into.
You're waiting for the happy ending. You're expecting me to say that I left that city culturally competent and realizing the stereotypes are all wrong. I wish I could say it, but it would be a lie.
Until then, I thought being black was something to be proud of. It was strength and unity. It was beautiful and unique. It was a rich though tortured history that proved the resilience of the human spirit. It was making the impossible possible by working together.
In Baltimore, I learned that being black means that you trust no one. It means that you look for someone to blame for your problems. It means violence is the solution to every conflict and if you choose to turn the other cheek, you're a "faggie." It means hopelessness: you are going to be stuck in this cycle of misery forever and it's because you're black.
Were there people that didn't fit this mold? Yes, obviously. Were there times when I saw teamwork, compassion, ingenuity? Of course. But what leaves a bad taste in my mouth and a pit in my stomach is that my time in Baltimore made me less hopeful and more disappointed. Less proud and more frustrated. Less tolerant and more biased.
Case and point: On my way to band practice today, I saw two black guys with braids à la Coolio, dressed in black hoodies, dark jeans, and Timberland boots. They looked like every corner kid that dropped out of school because trappin' was a lot easier than trigonometry. They looked just like the guys that leered at me as I walked down McCulloh Ave, telling me my ass was looking too fine in dat skirt. They were the spitting image of the inked up weed-smoking, 40-drinking thugs that have five or six baby-mommas and just caught their fifth or sixth charge. I wish I had some pepper spray. What is he holding? Is that a gun???
I put on my "Don't fuck with me" face and tried not to make eye contact. I rang the doorbell to Hunter's place, hoping that he'd buzz me in quickly and I could get away from these sketchballs. Why are they lurking around here anyway. The one with the gun turned to me and asked, "Est-ce que tu es ici pour le jam? Le groupe de musique avec Louis?"
It wasn't a gun. It was a flute.
And I was ashamed.
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