So I haven't blogged in a REALLY long time. Sorry. Not having internet, French strikes, and just life in general gets in the way. I don't think anyone reads this but my mom anyway (Hi Mom Happy Mommy's day!).
I'm trying to think if I should continue this or not. I hate plugging my blog it makes me feel like a nerd/idiot. Which means no one will start reading it. Oh whatever.
I leave France very soon. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I know I will miss it but at the same time, I never really miss the other places I've lived but more so the people I had with me. Kirsten will be back in the US and Marjo is probably moving there. Martin, god knows what he'll be doing, probably chasing skirts his whole life. I'm packing up all my things now, leaving the shelves to their empty state I met them at. It's bizarre to think that I've made a life here and when I'm gone I leave no mark. Maybe that's why someone scratched "MK '44" into my desk. Or maybe why there is so much graffiti everywhere in Europe.
Since I haven't had class a lot lately, I've been thinking a lot about my future. I have one year left to my formal studies, unless I decide to go to an advanced degree, which I doubt I will. Why the hell do I want to be a writer? Maybe I want to leave my own mark.
I went to Dublin a while ago and visited The Writers' Museum. It was one of the sadest places I'd ever been to. The Yeats display at the National Library was amazing though. But I don't want to write for fame, I want to write because I feel I have to. But what to write I don't know. I don't want to just be a nobody, which is really hard. I want people to actually READ what I write. And I want them to understand it. I am not an avant-gardist. And I don't want to be just another PoMo. I need something more. One side of me doesn't want to be sold in Wal-Mart but the other side does, I want everyone to read my writing. I want it to change how they think about themselves and their world.
But how do I do that? I've got a lot of great ideas in my head but I never follow them through. I think it's mostly because I know they aren't the best. But I also can't wait for the best. I have to make it the best.
Okay, I really need to get back to studying for my exam on Avant-Gardes. And pack.
8.2.09
Rain, Rain, GO AWAY!
So this last week it rained from Friday night till Wednesday. Pretty ridiculous for the south of France if you ask me! Last Saturday we were supposed to have a sleep over with a new American/Ukraine girl to think about her life’s plans. But because she forgot she had a dinner to go to, it was pushed back till ten at night. Not much time for life’s plans! So by the time ten rolled around, Kirsten and Marjolaine and I decided we would bring the party to Mariya. Even though none of us had any desire to go into town because we were tired and it was raining.
But we went anyway, walking in the rain and waiting by the fountain forever for Mariya to show up. But we made it into a fun night, entitled “Nuit de Merde”, where anything that was bad was actually GREAT! It ended up being an awesome time.
Saturday morning there was a meeting for all the ISEP coordinators of France on our campus and all the ISEP students were invited, so we went to meet all of the coordinators. It was kind of interesting, although I didn’t talk to any of the coordinators and pretty much just stuffed my face with free food. Best kind of food is free!
So in the US we have ground hog’s day to determine the weather for the next six weeks. In France they have Chandeleur, to make you fat on crepes. The tradition is that you hold a gold coin in your hand (traditionally a Louis) and flip a crepe. If you succeed, then you will have good luck for the year. If not, well, sorry! I should have pretty good luck for the year, along with everyone else who tried. But Chandeleur also has a weather aspect. If it rains on Chandeleur, it will continue to rain for two weeks. Of course, it was pouring outside.
Tuesday morning I went to class only to find a sign on the door that class was canceled and that our homework was in the library. My professor had sent out an email the night before stating she would be going on strike. Of course not having the best access to internet, I didn’t find out till I saw the sign. The teachers voted on Tuesday afternoon to go on strike but it’s only a few departments and not even all the professors in that department. So far, my French literature professor is on strike and that one English professor. Other than that, all my other professors are teaching still (I have eight this semester whereas a French student has about ten).
Why are they on strike? Well at first I didn’t know but after a few days both of my professors on strike sent out emails explaining the circumstances. Pretty much there are three reasons:
So as far as I’m concerned, yes the universities need to be improved. At least this one. I recently went to one of the others in town and their campus looks so much better, which is a pretty strong sign that they have more money. If research is the only way they can make money, science and business universities are going to have more money than humanities. It’s a given. So what is poor little Paul-Valery to do?
Raise tuition is the first step. Right now French students here pay about 200 Euros for each major per semester. Some have scholarships and some don’t. A few weeks ago the government stopped offering a lot of scholarships. I know to an American 200 euros is a tiny amount. But consider what we get and what they get. They get huge lectures filled with 500 other students. They don’t have any kind of relationship with their professors. Almost half of all students fail. They have libraries but other than that, there are no other resources. No gyms. None of the extras we get in the US. No after school activities funded by the university (except maybe theater because that’s a major but I’m really not sure on that).
How can French university be changed? Well sure, Americans can offer a lot of solutions. But they don’t fit into French culture. It’s a huge task to change a whole country’s education system and making broad generalizations about “those French” just don’t work. It doesn’t acknowledge their distinct culture. I couldn’t even tell you how to go about changing it.
I can only say the things that need to change. First off, the teaching style here is not very effective. They pretty much recite and the students copy down word for word what they say. That style doesn’t fit many types of learning and you have to be able to write pretty fast as well. Any kind of learning disability and you will probably be left behind. There is also no motivation to go to class when professor teach like that. I’ve seen students talk on their cell phones in class at times because they are bored.
Each lecture is paired with a smaller class that is supposed to be more homework and more intense study. Many times the topic is completely unrelated to the large lecture. In theory, the lecture is supposed to be guidance on how to work in the smaller class. For example in literature, it’s supposed to give you a general overview in which to place the texts you work on in the small class. But of course, it doesn’t always work that way.
The smaller lectures vary a lot by professor. But in general the grading is the same. One oral and one paper. That’s it. Each counts for half the grade for the small class, which in turn counts for usually 2/3 of the final grade. The large lecture is one final exam that counts for 1/3 of the final grade. You can flunk the lecture portion and still pass the class with a mid-range grade, which is all a French student shoots for. Getting a perfect grade, no matter how hard you work, is unheard of. So why work any harder than you need to get that mid-range grade? Yes, you do have to study to pass; it’s not quite as easy in the US, but getting an A NEVER HAPPENS. Pretty discouraging.
Also another interesting part is that students only have to pass the semester, not each class. The grades within their major are averaged and if they get at least a 10, they get to move on. But often, students are really close but not quite a ten. Then it’s taken to a review board who decides if you get to go to the next year. Although I’ve never heard about how it works, I’d imagine it’s pretty easy if you have at least a 9,5 since there is a vast majority of students who have an average of something around that. So say you’re really good at one thing and really stink at another? Why not focus all your energy on that one thing you’re good at, get an awesome grade, and flunk the other. It just evens out. So that leaves a lot of French students who know some things very very well and others they don’t know at all.
Remember, this is just an American talking about French education. There are obviously a lot of problems and also not all French students fit this stereotype. Marjolaine, for example, works really hard at everything she does and is a super smart girl. But her future is still really up in the air because of how the system works. Can she get a job after? Who knows? Only time will tell.
Strikes are part of French culture but apparently this strike is unusual as its wider spread than strikes in the past. Last Thursday it wasn’t just one group, it was many. That’s the weird part. Also universities that don’t normally join in are joining in. But that doesn’t always mean teaching stops completely. It just means that some professors aren’t teaching and some are. It’s a wait and see kind of deal. I just go to class and cross my fingers that the professor will be there.
As for the weekend, it was a pretty fun one. Friday night we had martinis. They are not the same as in the US. They come in one bottle and you just pour it out and drink it. And they’re super sweet. But be careful with them, you can’t taste the alcohol because they are so sweet but they are also only 14,4% compared to your average American cocktail, that’s a lot less (Don’t worry Mom, I only had two).
The next morning Kirsten and I took a bike ride to the outside of the city. It’s pretty sad to say that we have not seen very much in the surrounding area. So we got bikes and just went away from the city. We got a little lost and almost ended up on the highway but we made it back home safe and sound. Along the way we saw a 18th century aqueduct that I’m pretty sure a professor of mine talked about, comparing it with the Pont du Gard, the oldest and largest aqueduct in France built by the Romans.
The mistral started blowing yesterday while we were riding out bikes, pushing down on us so hard it felt like we were going up a huge hill when it was just flat. Gear one on flat, perfectly paved bike paths. Great…But it was an awesome time. And now I can say I can pull out my camera and take a picture while biking. I almost crashed a few times but never did :)
Saturday night Kirsten and I went to a Valentine’s dessert party hosted by a bunch of Mount Holyoke girls. I felt really weird at the party, not really sure what to talk about with the girls. Kirsten felt the same way. What do we say to them? Not really sure, nor really sure why we felt that way. I think it’s because those girls there and us lead pretty different lives and hold very different perspectives about things. One of them mentioned to me that the host was very good at acting sugary sweet to people she hated and then saying what she really meant later. It seemed to be a prized trait as other girls chipped in their praise for her talent. I was surprised and wondered what kind of things she said about me when my back was turned. But as I thought that I caught myself. Why does it matter? She’s a nice girl to my face and invited me to her home, so I figured that she is sincere in her words. But it really bugged me that those girls prize insincerity.
As for today, I slept in and have a lot of work to do. Because my professors went on strike, I now have homework I wouldn’t normally have. And on top of that, next Friday is the deadline for Odyssey Funding from Hendrix. Internship here I come!
But we went anyway, walking in the rain and waiting by the fountain forever for Mariya to show up. But we made it into a fun night, entitled “Nuit de Merde”, where anything that was bad was actually GREAT! It ended up being an awesome time.
Saturday morning there was a meeting for all the ISEP coordinators of France on our campus and all the ISEP students were invited, so we went to meet all of the coordinators. It was kind of interesting, although I didn’t talk to any of the coordinators and pretty much just stuffed my face with free food. Best kind of food is free!
So in the US we have ground hog’s day to determine the weather for the next six weeks. In France they have Chandeleur, to make you fat on crepes. The tradition is that you hold a gold coin in your hand (traditionally a Louis) and flip a crepe. If you succeed, then you will have good luck for the year. If not, well, sorry! I should have pretty good luck for the year, along with everyone else who tried. But Chandeleur also has a weather aspect. If it rains on Chandeleur, it will continue to rain for two weeks. Of course, it was pouring outside.
Tuesday morning I went to class only to find a sign on the door that class was canceled and that our homework was in the library. My professor had sent out an email the night before stating she would be going on strike. Of course not having the best access to internet, I didn’t find out till I saw the sign. The teachers voted on Tuesday afternoon to go on strike but it’s only a few departments and not even all the professors in that department. So far, my French literature professor is on strike and that one English professor. Other than that, all my other professors are teaching still (I have eight this semester whereas a French student has about ten).
Why are they on strike? Well at first I didn’t know but after a few days both of my professors on strike sent out emails explaining the circumstances. Pretty much there are three reasons:
So as far as I’m concerned, yes the universities need to be improved. At least this one. I recently went to one of the others in town and their campus looks so much better, which is a pretty strong sign that they have more money. If research is the only way they can make money, science and business universities are going to have more money than humanities. It’s a given. So what is poor little Paul-Valery to do?
Raise tuition is the first step. Right now French students here pay about 200 Euros for each major per semester. Some have scholarships and some don’t. A few weeks ago the government stopped offering a lot of scholarships. I know to an American 200 euros is a tiny amount. But consider what we get and what they get. They get huge lectures filled with 500 other students. They don’t have any kind of relationship with their professors. Almost half of all students fail. They have libraries but other than that, there are no other resources. No gyms. None of the extras we get in the US. No after school activities funded by the university (except maybe theater because that’s a major but I’m really not sure on that).
How can French university be changed? Well sure, Americans can offer a lot of solutions. But they don’t fit into French culture. It’s a huge task to change a whole country’s education system and making broad generalizations about “those French” just don’t work. It doesn’t acknowledge their distinct culture. I couldn’t even tell you how to go about changing it.
I can only say the things that need to change. First off, the teaching style here is not very effective. They pretty much recite and the students copy down word for word what they say. That style doesn’t fit many types of learning and you have to be able to write pretty fast as well. Any kind of learning disability and you will probably be left behind. There is also no motivation to go to class when professor teach like that. I’ve seen students talk on their cell phones in class at times because they are bored.
Each lecture is paired with a smaller class that is supposed to be more homework and more intense study. Many times the topic is completely unrelated to the large lecture. In theory, the lecture is supposed to be guidance on how to work in the smaller class. For example in literature, it’s supposed to give you a general overview in which to place the texts you work on in the small class. But of course, it doesn’t always work that way.
The smaller lectures vary a lot by professor. But in general the grading is the same. One oral and one paper. That’s it. Each counts for half the grade for the small class, which in turn counts for usually 2/3 of the final grade. The large lecture is one final exam that counts for 1/3 of the final grade. You can flunk the lecture portion and still pass the class with a mid-range grade, which is all a French student shoots for. Getting a perfect grade, no matter how hard you work, is unheard of. So why work any harder than you need to get that mid-range grade? Yes, you do have to study to pass; it’s not quite as easy in the US, but getting an A NEVER HAPPENS. Pretty discouraging.
Also another interesting part is that students only have to pass the semester, not each class. The grades within their major are averaged and if they get at least a 10, they get to move on. But often, students are really close but not quite a ten. Then it’s taken to a review board who decides if you get to go to the next year. Although I’ve never heard about how it works, I’d imagine it’s pretty easy if you have at least a 9,5 since there is a vast majority of students who have an average of something around that. So say you’re really good at one thing and really stink at another? Why not focus all your energy on that one thing you’re good at, get an awesome grade, and flunk the other. It just evens out. So that leaves a lot of French students who know some things very very well and others they don’t know at all.
Remember, this is just an American talking about French education. There are obviously a lot of problems and also not all French students fit this stereotype. Marjolaine, for example, works really hard at everything she does and is a super smart girl. But her future is still really up in the air because of how the system works. Can she get a job after? Who knows? Only time will tell.
Strikes are part of French culture but apparently this strike is unusual as its wider spread than strikes in the past. Last Thursday it wasn’t just one group, it was many. That’s the weird part. Also universities that don’t normally join in are joining in. But that doesn’t always mean teaching stops completely. It just means that some professors aren’t teaching and some are. It’s a wait and see kind of deal. I just go to class and cross my fingers that the professor will be there.
As for the weekend, it was a pretty fun one. Friday night we had martinis. They are not the same as in the US. They come in one bottle and you just pour it out and drink it. And they’re super sweet. But be careful with them, you can’t taste the alcohol because they are so sweet but they are also only 14,4% compared to your average American cocktail, that’s a lot less (Don’t worry Mom, I only had two).
The next morning Kirsten and I took a bike ride to the outside of the city. It’s pretty sad to say that we have not seen very much in the surrounding area. So we got bikes and just went away from the city. We got a little lost and almost ended up on the highway but we made it back home safe and sound. Along the way we saw a 18th century aqueduct that I’m pretty sure a professor of mine talked about, comparing it with the Pont du Gard, the oldest and largest aqueduct in France built by the Romans.
The mistral started blowing yesterday while we were riding out bikes, pushing down on us so hard it felt like we were going up a huge hill when it was just flat. Gear one on flat, perfectly paved bike paths. Great…But it was an awesome time. And now I can say I can pull out my camera and take a picture while biking. I almost crashed a few times but never did :)
Saturday night Kirsten and I went to a Valentine’s dessert party hosted by a bunch of Mount Holyoke girls. I felt really weird at the party, not really sure what to talk about with the girls. Kirsten felt the same way. What do we say to them? Not really sure, nor really sure why we felt that way. I think it’s because those girls there and us lead pretty different lives and hold very different perspectives about things. One of them mentioned to me that the host was very good at acting sugary sweet to people she hated and then saying what she really meant later. It seemed to be a prized trait as other girls chipped in their praise for her talent. I was surprised and wondered what kind of things she said about me when my back was turned. But as I thought that I caught myself. Why does it matter? She’s a nice girl to my face and invited me to her home, so I figured that she is sincere in her words. But it really bugged me that those girls prize insincerity.
As for today, I slept in and have a lot of work to do. Because my professors went on strike, I now have homework I wouldn’t normally have. And on top of that, next Friday is the deadline for Odyssey Funding from Hendrix. Internship here I come!
30.1.09
Strikes!
It’s been a super busy week, full of changes and realizations. Which is both good and bad. I’m sitting in my room in my lovely IKEA chair that Lukas helped carry back (Thanks :) ) eating my lunch with my laptop playing some relaxing John Mayer. And boy, do I need to just relax!
To start off with the most interesting part of my week, there was a national strike yesterday in France against a lot of different things but mostly the display of collective disapproval and even hatred of Sarkozy, the current President of France. It wasn’t just students either; it was teachers of all grades, transportation workers, factories, banks, basically anything unionized (which means everything in France). So to find out what a French strike was like, I decided to participate, but certainly not do anything but watch from the inside.
The Manifestation, as it’s called in French, was in front of Peyrou, a large park dedicated to a huge Louis XIV statue and an aqueduct. It started at two thirty, so I made my way to the tram at one hoping to grab one of the last ones before the strike started. The strike was all day long but trams were running about every half hour. Many classes were canceled. I thought about snatching up a bike from the rental station to make sure I could get back later but of course the stupid machine wasn’t working. So I joined the masses in the trams.
The trams were only heading downtown and were pretty often, about every ten minutes. But we stopped short as all the trams were lining up at the stop closest to Peyrou. They let us all out and everyone started walking towards the park, some unrolling banners, others just with cameras and smiles in the southern sun. I walked up towards the Jardin des Plantes, in between the Peyrou and the tram, and texted a bunch of friends asking if they were coming. Two girls in my English class told me to wait there for me and they would “teach me proper striking procedure.” As I was waiting a huge group of students from Paul Valery walked by with banners, many of whom I knew. I waved and said hi and they called me to join them. After fairing la bis while walking backward (quite a feat I must admit J) they started shouting “Yes We Can” and that they had an American with them. I told them I’d meet them later but that I was waiting for other friends.
Finally my two French friends showed up and went to one of their apartments to change out of heels (Lesson number one: Wear cute but comfy shoes!) and we walked back to the place where people were gathering. Of course my American friend who was joining us was on the other side of the street under the Arc de Triomphe. It was next to impossible to get to the other side because there were so many people. We had to plow our way through, holding hands to make sure one of us didn’t get trapped. (Lesson two: Always meet somewhere other than the mass meeting point)
After about half an hour of wading through people we finally met, using banners and flags as reference points. And then we waited. And waited. And waited some more. So Marie, one of the French students pulled out a bunch of one sided paper and her and the other French girl made make shift signs of common slogans about education. (Lesson Three: Always have some paper and pens on hand for impromptu signage) But of course we had no way to hold up the signs. So Liza, the other Frenchie, decided to punch a hole through it with her earring and wear it as a REALLY large earring. (Lesson Four: If it’s a strike, nothing looks silly as long as you get your message out)
A little while later we started moving and that's when I really realized how many people were at the rally. (Lesson Five: Don’t get there on time because it will be late) Students were perched on anything within hands reach holding signs and taking pictures. There were thousands of people flooding down the hill into two in all directions singing and using noise makers. A year ago Sarko told the French that no one notices when they go on strike (probably meaning the international media). But as for French noticing it, there’s no way you couldn’t.
The Police projected that there were around 30,000 people demonstrating yesterday while the Unions say it was closer to 40,000. Either way, for such a small city, that’s a crap ton of people. That’s twice more than the population of my hometown. Can you imagine that? (Lesson Six: Never tell the French what they can’t do. They’ll prove you wrong every time.)
So we walked through the city and were asked to sign petitions (don’t worry Mom, I didn’t. No deportation for me!) And sung songs related to the strike taught to us by Liza. By the time we got to La Comedie, I had learned so much about French politics my head was spinning (Lesson Seven: Know your Ministers)
At that point they were going to sit down in front of the Prefecture, the local government that I know so well from doing my Carte de Sejour. I figured I’d had enough for the day so I decided to take a bike home and rest up for a while before going out. But we ended up having a lovely dinner in my room of couscous stew.
I think the Manifestation was the best way to christen my brand new residency permit. It’s called a Titre or Carte de Sejour and it’s a really lengthy process to get your first one. If you’re an American you’re pretty much set in getting it because you’ve probably been vaccinated for everything under the sun and have enough money. The first part is to go start your Dossier, or file, at the Prefecture. For students, there might be another place, such as the Pole Univerisitaire for me! I went there with all my paperwork (which really varies by region, so go to the place where you need to apply and ask for a list of required papers) and made my first Dossier. Then a while later they send you a blue slip. With said slip you go to the Prefecture and pick up your receipt of filing. It’s a piece of paper with your picture on it and is a temporary thing that allows you to work. Then wait a while longer and you’ll get a letter in the mail that gives an appointment for a doctor’s visit.
The weirdest part of it all is the stamp. When you go to your medical visit you must bring with you a 55 Euro stamp that can usually be bought at a Tabac near the medical center. It is never mentioned that you need it; I found out from other Americans that had shown up without it. Not planning on spending that much money while on such a tight budget, I just stared blankly at the American girl who told me for a minute and really freaked her out. Do you really need it? Maybe, maybe not. I’ve heard of people in Paris getting away without it. But here in Montpellier you absolutely must have it. No stamp, no Carte.
The visit is really bizarre and when someone told me it was like an assembly line I laughed. But it’s the truth. You go to the office and they put your file in one bin and stick you in a waiting room. Then a doctor calls you and you go into the office and talk about sexual health, vaccinations (so bring your vaccine sheet) and family history. Then you go back to the waiting room. Then an x-ray tech calls you and they take an x-ray of your lungs to make sure you don’t have TB. It’s really awkward because you have to undress and then press your chest up against a machine and inhale at the right time. Then back to the waiting room. Then the last and final doctor takes a glance at your x-ray and asks you a few questions why you’re there. (Mine asked why the hell I would study English in France.) Then back to the waiting room where you wait for some random person who takes your sheets and stamps them and takes your stamp and sticks it to the papers and give you your Carte. And you’re free! YAY!
The Carte is immensely detailed. I couldn’t even imagine how much a fake one of those costs. Probably a few thousand Euros. But who cares? I have a real one!!
So this free French resident is going to go look for some cheap running sneakers. I think it might be hard but it’s still the soldes (super duper sales which I will write about later) so I might have some luck. I decided that I wouldn’t give up eating gobs of butter with my baguettes but just to start running with Kirsten. Okay, maybe not running for now but probably more like fast walking/jogging. Takes time! And god, I am out of shape. Damn you French Cheese :)
To start off with the most interesting part of my week, there was a national strike yesterday in France against a lot of different things but mostly the display of collective disapproval and even hatred of Sarkozy, the current President of France. It wasn’t just students either; it was teachers of all grades, transportation workers, factories, banks, basically anything unionized (which means everything in France). So to find out what a French strike was like, I decided to participate, but certainly not do anything but watch from the inside.
The Manifestation, as it’s called in French, was in front of Peyrou, a large park dedicated to a huge Louis XIV statue and an aqueduct. It started at two thirty, so I made my way to the tram at one hoping to grab one of the last ones before the strike started. The strike was all day long but trams were running about every half hour. Many classes were canceled. I thought about snatching up a bike from the rental station to make sure I could get back later but of course the stupid machine wasn’t working. So I joined the masses in the trams.
The trams were only heading downtown and were pretty often, about every ten minutes. But we stopped short as all the trams were lining up at the stop closest to Peyrou. They let us all out and everyone started walking towards the park, some unrolling banners, others just with cameras and smiles in the southern sun. I walked up towards the Jardin des Plantes, in between the Peyrou and the tram, and texted a bunch of friends asking if they were coming. Two girls in my English class told me to wait there for me and they would “teach me proper striking procedure.” As I was waiting a huge group of students from Paul Valery walked by with banners, many of whom I knew. I waved and said hi and they called me to join them. After fairing la bis while walking backward (quite a feat I must admit J) they started shouting “Yes We Can” and that they had an American with them. I told them I’d meet them later but that I was waiting for other friends.
Finally my two French friends showed up and went to one of their apartments to change out of heels (Lesson number one: Wear cute but comfy shoes!) and we walked back to the place where people were gathering. Of course my American friend who was joining us was on the other side of the street under the Arc de Triomphe. It was next to impossible to get to the other side because there were so many people. We had to plow our way through, holding hands to make sure one of us didn’t get trapped. (Lesson two: Always meet somewhere other than the mass meeting point)
After about half an hour of wading through people we finally met, using banners and flags as reference points. And then we waited. And waited. And waited some more. So Marie, one of the French students pulled out a bunch of one sided paper and her and the other French girl made make shift signs of common slogans about education. (Lesson Three: Always have some paper and pens on hand for impromptu signage) But of course we had no way to hold up the signs. So Liza, the other Frenchie, decided to punch a hole through it with her earring and wear it as a REALLY large earring. (Lesson Four: If it’s a strike, nothing looks silly as long as you get your message out)
A little while later we started moving and that's when I really realized how many people were at the rally. (Lesson Five: Don’t get there on time because it will be late) Students were perched on anything within hands reach holding signs and taking pictures. There were thousands of people flooding down the hill into two in all directions singing and using noise makers. A year ago Sarko told the French that no one notices when they go on strike (probably meaning the international media). But as for French noticing it, there’s no way you couldn’t.
The Police projected that there were around 30,000 people demonstrating yesterday while the Unions say it was closer to 40,000. Either way, for such a small city, that’s a crap ton of people. That’s twice more than the population of my hometown. Can you imagine that? (Lesson Six: Never tell the French what they can’t do. They’ll prove you wrong every time.)
So we walked through the city and were asked to sign petitions (don’t worry Mom, I didn’t. No deportation for me!) And sung songs related to the strike taught to us by Liza. By the time we got to La Comedie, I had learned so much about French politics my head was spinning (Lesson Seven: Know your Ministers)
At that point they were going to sit down in front of the Prefecture, the local government that I know so well from doing my Carte de Sejour. I figured I’d had enough for the day so I decided to take a bike home and rest up for a while before going out. But we ended up having a lovely dinner in my room of couscous stew.
I think the Manifestation was the best way to christen my brand new residency permit. It’s called a Titre or Carte de Sejour and it’s a really lengthy process to get your first one. If you’re an American you’re pretty much set in getting it because you’ve probably been vaccinated for everything under the sun and have enough money. The first part is to go start your Dossier, or file, at the Prefecture. For students, there might be another place, such as the Pole Univerisitaire for me! I went there with all my paperwork (which really varies by region, so go to the place where you need to apply and ask for a list of required papers) and made my first Dossier. Then a while later they send you a blue slip. With said slip you go to the Prefecture and pick up your receipt of filing. It’s a piece of paper with your picture on it and is a temporary thing that allows you to work. Then wait a while longer and you’ll get a letter in the mail that gives an appointment for a doctor’s visit.
The weirdest part of it all is the stamp. When you go to your medical visit you must bring with you a 55 Euro stamp that can usually be bought at a Tabac near the medical center. It is never mentioned that you need it; I found out from other Americans that had shown up without it. Not planning on spending that much money while on such a tight budget, I just stared blankly at the American girl who told me for a minute and really freaked her out. Do you really need it? Maybe, maybe not. I’ve heard of people in Paris getting away without it. But here in Montpellier you absolutely must have it. No stamp, no Carte.
The visit is really bizarre and when someone told me it was like an assembly line I laughed. But it’s the truth. You go to the office and they put your file in one bin and stick you in a waiting room. Then a doctor calls you and you go into the office and talk about sexual health, vaccinations (so bring your vaccine sheet) and family history. Then you go back to the waiting room. Then an x-ray tech calls you and they take an x-ray of your lungs to make sure you don’t have TB. It’s really awkward because you have to undress and then press your chest up against a machine and inhale at the right time. Then back to the waiting room. Then the last and final doctor takes a glance at your x-ray and asks you a few questions why you’re there. (Mine asked why the hell I would study English in France.) Then back to the waiting room where you wait for some random person who takes your sheets and stamps them and takes your stamp and sticks it to the papers and give you your Carte. And you’re free! YAY!
The Carte is immensely detailed. I couldn’t even imagine how much a fake one of those costs. Probably a few thousand Euros. But who cares? I have a real one!!
So this free French resident is going to go look for some cheap running sneakers. I think it might be hard but it’s still the soldes (super duper sales which I will write about later) so I might have some luck. I decided that I wouldn’t give up eating gobs of butter with my baguettes but just to start running with Kirsten. Okay, maybe not running for now but probably more like fast walking/jogging. Takes time! And god, I am out of shape. Damn you French Cheese :)
20.1.09
After a few weeks.
So it's been a few weeks since I returned to Montpellier. I have a class a lot less this semester so I hope to blog at least once every other week.
The first few days back were really hard; it was cold here and no one else was back yet and all my French friends were with either their families or with their lovers. Lame I know. They also lost my luggage. So I was unhappy and unclothed. But sure enough, things worked out better and Lukas got to visit for a week and my clothes came that day as well.
Since then I haven't been up to much. Lukas just left on Saturday and we had a good week together and visited a bit more of Montpellier, as I had finals last time he was here. I took him to Rue Bras de Fer, which is my favorite in the whole city, and also has an English bookshop/tea house on it. So we took a peek in and ended up spending a good hour in there looking at books.
English books are super expensive here in France, rounding out at around 12 to 15 euros. Compared with the normal french book between 5 and 10 euros, it makes you want to fly to England to stock up on books. So I didn't look at anything but the used books, knowing I would easily spend around 50 euros. But I did stumble upon a book Lukas has been looking for for a while so I bought it for him as a congratulations present for getting into university (which, come to find out wasn't entirely true due to misinterpreted mail).
But Lukas left on Saturday and now eating dinner alone at night is pretty lonely. So I've been working on my German while preparing meals. I downloaded a podcast from Deutsche Welle over break and it's pretty short but super entertaining. It's like a video game but a radio program. I'm pretty sure they also have other ones for other languages, as it's supported by the European Union, produced in England, and one of the producers is French national radio.
I finished it off this evening and really wish there were more episodes. I also tried to use my real computer (I'm now using an EeePC, which works wonders) to update podcasts but of course, it can't find the internet. I've only got one class tomorrow so while I'm doing homework I'm going to go to the library and try to see if it works in there.
I just got off the phone with the registrar at my home university and I'm trying to get approval for a history class here. Basically how the classes work here is there are two lecture sections on two completely different topics that have nothing to do with each other. The classes are around 3 hours long for each section, adding to around 6 hours for 6 credits. Problem is I need six credits for it to count for my graduation. But it is impossible to do six hours of class in my schedule. So they told me to write an email to the head of the history department. Hopefully they will take pity on my soul.
The classes I'm taking this semester seem to be really a lot more interesting than last semester. I'm taking English again, this time with a Shakespeare TD and the CM is on three different topics. My French class this semester is on Avant Garde Literature, which is SUPER interesting. And then a translation course. I'm thinking of sitting in on German as well but I'm having issues figuring out what is the beginners level class.
But my back is killing me from typig on such a tiny computer so I'm outta here.
The first few days back were really hard; it was cold here and no one else was back yet and all my French friends were with either their families or with their lovers. Lame I know. They also lost my luggage. So I was unhappy and unclothed. But sure enough, things worked out better and Lukas got to visit for a week and my clothes came that day as well.
Since then I haven't been up to much. Lukas just left on Saturday and we had a good week together and visited a bit more of Montpellier, as I had finals last time he was here. I took him to Rue Bras de Fer, which is my favorite in the whole city, and also has an English bookshop/tea house on it. So we took a peek in and ended up spending a good hour in there looking at books.
English books are super expensive here in France, rounding out at around 12 to 15 euros. Compared with the normal french book between 5 and 10 euros, it makes you want to fly to England to stock up on books. So I didn't look at anything but the used books, knowing I would easily spend around 50 euros. But I did stumble upon a book Lukas has been looking for for a while so I bought it for him as a congratulations present for getting into university (which, come to find out wasn't entirely true due to misinterpreted mail).
But Lukas left on Saturday and now eating dinner alone at night is pretty lonely. So I've been working on my German while preparing meals. I downloaded a podcast from Deutsche Welle over break and it's pretty short but super entertaining. It's like a video game but a radio program. I'm pretty sure they also have other ones for other languages, as it's supported by the European Union, produced in England, and one of the producers is French national radio.
I finished it off this evening and really wish there were more episodes. I also tried to use my real computer (I'm now using an EeePC, which works wonders) to update podcasts but of course, it can't find the internet. I've only got one class tomorrow so while I'm doing homework I'm going to go to the library and try to see if it works in there.
I just got off the phone with the registrar at my home university and I'm trying to get approval for a history class here. Basically how the classes work here is there are two lecture sections on two completely different topics that have nothing to do with each other. The classes are around 3 hours long for each section, adding to around 6 hours for 6 credits. Problem is I need six credits for it to count for my graduation. But it is impossible to do six hours of class in my schedule. So they told me to write an email to the head of the history department. Hopefully they will take pity on my soul.
The classes I'm taking this semester seem to be really a lot more interesting than last semester. I'm taking English again, this time with a Shakespeare TD and the CM is on three different topics. My French class this semester is on Avant Garde Literature, which is SUPER interesting. And then a translation course. I'm thinking of sitting in on German as well but I'm having issues figuring out what is the beginners level class.
But my back is killing me from typig on such a tiny computer so I'm outta here.
30.12.08
Update...
So this is something I wrote the 13th of Sept. Hopefully it gives some insight to what I've been doing the past few months. I hope to update this with a super long entry. Maybe... Anyway, here's the entry!
Yes, I know, I’ve been away for a while. But to be honest, I haven’t had a free moment to sit down and write since I got to France. Every minute is filled with something, or someone, whether it’s paperwork or meeting new friends.
So right now I’m sitting in my new room on my bed with honey by my side and a huge 1,5 liter bottle of water. My allergies are attacking me horribly here! So bad that right now, I have absolutely no voice. It didn’t help that last night I met some really cool new people and forced talking in a loud bar. But I think it’s worth it to make new friends. (And don’t worry Mom J I’m fine. It’s definitely allergies because my ears and sinuses are stuffy and I don’t have a fever.)
I’m going to skip around a lot in my telling of what I’ve been up to, so bare with me.
Yesterday morning I woke up and I felt like I was going to cough my tonsils up. But of course, I didn’t. I have no class on Fridays (thank god!) so I put on some clothes and my glasses and walked to the pharmacy near the entrance to my campus. I forgot there was another about 100 ft from my dorm but oh well! Most pharmacies have a blinking green cross that is a beacon for sick or just people who think they are sick. Making a beeline through all the people accosting me with pamphlets on various groups and health care things, I made my way into a very odd looking store. I promise to go take a picture of a pharmacy at some point but at the time, that wasn’t exactly on my mind.
The pharmacy is absolutely pristine white and mostly open space. There are only a few things up around the wall and maybe one or two displays in the middle. All the boxes are white with very little writing on them and there are people nicely dressed behind a counter. No white jackets in France apparently! There was a man and a woman at the counter, both helping another customer but the man said “Bonjour,” as is customary when someone enters a store, and I attempted the customary reply. Almost nothing came out. Just a squeaky “Bon….” So immediately he looked at me and said “Vous a besoin de quelque chose” You need something. YES! So I attempted to explain my problem with hand gestures and meek sounds.
Thank god I’ve become pretty good at mouthing French! He picked up six things from behind the counter and told me about each of them. Lozenges and sprays, pills and creams. AH. So I asked which was best and ended up with a 3Euro spray can of something like Chloroseptic. For three euros it is gigantic. In the US I would estimate it to be around $10-15.
And thus with my little paper baggie of spray in hand I fought my way back through all the pamphlet people again, some of whom wished me good health because I could only manage a weak reply during the first pass.
Right outside my building I spotted another American student and asked her plans for the day. We both needed to go register for classes so we decided to go together because it’s much easier to wade through the chaotic world for French registration together (I’ll explain in a bit). So as she looked at my course book for Lettres Modernes I hopped in the shower and then we tried out my new French medicine.
It’s a menacing looking bottle when you have no idea what it is. I read all the directions in French and English and then attached the spray head. And nervously, I sprayed it into the back of my throat. First, it tastes disgusting. And it is super strong. Almost immediately my throat went numb, which was absolutely amazing and disorienting. And like magic, I could talk with ease.
But that completes the story of my pharmacy trip for now. I have a feeling I will return today to see if they have any over the counter allergy drugs. I’m not really sure how OTC works here.
So to explain how French registration works…. Well really I guess I should just start from the beginning.
Paris was awesome. I saw so much history in only a week. But I have to say my favorite things were the first full day in Paris, where we ate lunch in Champs de Mars at the base of the Eiffel Tower. Every time I would look up was a pretty LARGE reminder that I was now in France. I am REALLY here. After studying pictures of the damn thing for so long, it was an awing experience in real life.
My other favorite thing was the catacombs. We climbed down a TON of spiral stairs (which are really common in Paris, so if you hate them, you’re going to hate them even more) to a cavern underneath the city, even underneath the metro. We walked about a half mile in a dark alley, the ceiling just high enough for me to walk without bending over. Of course there were bat speakers everywhere that drove me crazy (I can hear the high pitched squeal) but after walking for a long time we came to the entrance to the catacombs. It is a really creepy looking entrance with the warning about it being the entrance to the dead above the doorway.
And when you enter, there are millions of bones surrounding you. Stacked in designs and pushed against the walls, there are millions upon millions of bones dating as far back as the 1500s, possibly even later. Even Robespierre is amongst them. But most of them are just average Parisians which is the coolest part. To think about how those people lived and how they died, it’s a pretty humbling experience. And others have thought the same thing, as little poems and quotes on plaques are placed among the stacks of bones.
The creepiest part of that was the ground had this white talcum stuff on it. Extremely slippery and it comes out with you when you leave the catacombs. I’m pretty sure that it is calcium deposits from the bones. It won’t come off my shoes so the dead Parisians are here with me in Montpellier.
Also in Paris I got to see Sebastian and meet his sister for the first time, which was amazing of course. Sebastian was an exchange student at Hendrix my freshman year and he came to visit Boston so I played tour guide for him. So he returned the favor in Paris. His sister is currently looking for an apartment in Paris so she was also free to come out with us for dinner and to walk around the city. They took us to all the places we didn’t get to see during the day. Which look even better at night, to be truly honest. Paris really is the City of Light. And by that I mean all the lights they have during the night!
My camera didn’t exactly work because I couldn’t charge my battery so Lukas has all the pictures (my traveling mate from Germany). As soon as I get them from him, I’ll post them up here.
So the morning we were leaving Paris I was obviously nervous. I ate my breakfast but very shortly it decided to leave me again. We packed up quickly and left the hotel and got to the train station. We were a bit late for my train, at least I thought, but apparently they don’t even announce which track the train is on in Europe until ten minutes before it leaves. I said goodbye to Lukas, who would be flying back to Germany, and boarded my train. Of course, I sat in the wrong seat the first time. So after moving my luggage and sitting down, the train ride began. It was nice to see the country flashing by me, to see the white cows and the vineyards. The little towns with stone churches in the distant rain finally made me say to myself “Yes, you will be here for a year.”
But upon my arrival from rainy cold Paris to tropically suppressing Montpellier, I stripped off my layers and got on the tram.
First off, the trams are adorable. There is two lines, my line being the blue one, the other line is orange and covered in flowers. Inside the tram it’s all pretty much the honors system. You get in and put your ticket in the ticket eater (composteur in French) and then just get off where you want. There are many people who have passes and many others who just get on the tram and have nothing. There are inspectors who go around randomly and check for violations and write tickets, but I’ve yet to see one though I have heard they target black women, who actually very often don’t have tickets.
Anyway, I got off at my stop, St. Eloi, with a ton of other students, who all promptly got on a bus. I didn’t want to risk going past my building, so I decided to foot it. It’s not very long and now I walk it everyday but with my luggage, it seemed like forever. I made it to campus and into the Administrative building, up the three flights of stairs (to the second floor by the way) and found my coordinator. He told me to come in and sit down and then we went over some really basic things. He sent me to my new residence and that was it. Come back tomorrow! Which seems to be the answer for everything.
So I climbed up a hill to my new residence. It’s a Cite Universitaire. Basically, it’s a gated set of buildings where students can live for next to nothing. An average French student pays about 80 Euros a month for my room, with government aid, and about 120 Euro a month for a renovated room, which includes a fridge, private bath, kitchen, and internet. Our rooms in Batiment E, the Chambre Simple, are equipped with a sink, bed, desk, and closet. No internet. To use the internet we must go to the lodge/lobby to use the free wifi there. Kinda a pain in the ass but oh well.
So my first night here, I unpacked all my things and journeyed to find something to eat. At this point my stomach was disagreeing with me but I found a grocery store and bought things to make a sandwich and some breakfast. Of course, once back in my room, I couldn’t eat a damn thing. I was so nervous and upset. And also alone. And it sucked. I was homesick for the second time since arriving to France, the first time being my first night in France, and I tried to call my friends to no avail.
I took some sleeping pills and went to sleep, waking the next morning to get to M. Amara’s office to go through paperwork. I hoped to meet other Americans but nope. I didn’t. So I went to the city center to look around and then came back to my area for dinner. Mistake number one. There is very little in the area in live in. But there is a nice little restaurant down the street that had a cheap and quick dinner. After dinner I tried to use my computer but couldn’t and eventually decided to come back to my room and sleep. The American students had a meeting the next day to talk about classes so I would meet some people then.
I got to the meeting after going downtown to buy some various things I needed and there were so many Americans there. Not just ISEP students, but a few other exchange programs. So all of the ISEP students went in to a classroom and they welcomed us and we all met each other. Then all the other Americans came in to talk about scheduling. From that point on, the ISEP students are pretty much on their own. We only get information if we ask questions. Just like Erasmus and French students. The other Americans have coordinators here who are also American or who only work with their one program.
So when all the other program students attacked the papers while we sat there not knowing what was going on, I met Kirsten Kinne. She and I had talked on the pone before coming here and I have no idea what it was but we are now attached at the hip. Maybe it’s because we speak to each other in French while all the Americans speak in English constantly (even if you speak to them in French they respond in English). I’m not sure. But now we do everything together. And it’s awesome to have her for support here.
We went to a little party the International House of Montpellier hosted for all the foreign students in Montpellier. So we met a lot of other people and then went out for dinner with another American from UPV and a Finnish guy also at UPV. Matt, the American, is a ceramics major, while the Finnish guy, Alexandre, I have no idea what he does. We ate a lovely dinner at an Indian restaurant and then afterwards joined the Erasmus group at L’Oxymore, a student oriented bar. I met so many people who were all so nice but to be honest, I have the hardest time trying to remember people’s names when they are in a different language.
Come Monday, I figured out a bit of what classes I was taking but not the times. In France, all the course descriptions are online, posted only about a week or two before school starts. Then all the times are posted in a display window (les panneaux) in the department’s building on campus. As the campus is gated on weekends, I had no idea what classes were what times. But apparently it’s the same deal for the French, who look at the sheets with the same amount of confusion as us foreign students.
In general, everyone is extremely helpful. I have yet to have anyone in Montpellier be utterly rude to me. Occasionally someone will crack a joke about the US but everyone really seems to be so polite and honest here. Sometimes I notice in the South of the US people are polite and helpful but sometimes they have a hint of being fake at the same time. People in the North are just blatantly honest and often rude because of that. But here in Montpellier, if you even look like you need help and ask with a smile, everyone is very polite and helps you, or directs you to someone who can.
For example, I just met my across-the-hall mate yesterday and she heard my voice. Immediately she gave me some home made honey to soothe my throat and some hot lemon water. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. I invited her to dinner last night, which I ended up being late for, but then she came out with us!
The same goes for all the professors here too. They are really understanding. Some more than others, but all of my professors are really nice and helpful. One even writes the words I make a strange face to on the board and if I still don’t look like I understand, she gives a quick synonym explanation. I think this semester will be hard but I can tell already my French is improving. I’ve only been here a week!
So between classes and paperwork, I’ve been meeting a lot of wonderful people, French and non-French. There are some Berbers who always hang out in the lobby on the Internet who have been really helpful to me, taught me some ins and outs of the French paperwork system, and even helped me pick out my cell phone plan (which I will buy today). They’ve let me use their computers to talk to my family and check my email when mine has had trouble. One of them is even giving me his old fridge he was going to throw away. They know what it’s like to be away from home and have nothing so they are all so nice and helpful. At this point I know about six words in Berber. Azul means hello.
In class the French students are very nice and let me copy off their notes during the class. They all find it very interesting that I come from Boston, study in Arkansas, and decided to come here. But I guess it is pretty interesting!
Because I know this is very long (sorry I’ve just got so much to say) I’m going to close it out with what I did yesterday.
After finding out that I had actually already registered for class as it’s only writing your name on the roll call, I went to lunch and found another American student named Cory waiting in line for a meal ticket. We ate lunch and then found Kirsten and we all went downtown to buy her art supplies and look for a cellphone plan. Remind me to explain how cell phones work in France at some point.
Anyway, we came back with all the information and I ran into a Berber guy whose name I have no idea to spell, we’ll call him M since it starts with an M (I think?). He sat down with me a told me which plan was best and also showed me a website that you can use to make free international calls with your cell phone. Made me pretty happy! So I then went back to downtown to try to buy mine but I forgot my passport and so I couldn’t get one. I was frustrated so I went to Mc Donald's and bought some fries.
A little taste of home and walking along the old streets and I was good as new. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and it was another American girl, Anne, who I have a grammar class with. She had just met some French people and invited me to have a drink at Fitzpatricks, an Irish bar near where she lived in downtown. So I of course said yes and had a really nice conversation with Pierre, Emeline and Anne. But that made me late for the dinner that my hall mate was so hesitant about coming to. Anne joined me and we walked as fast as we could from the tram to the caf but didn’t make it. So we went to the dorm, ran into Kirsten who was also late, and then picked up my hall mate, whose name I can’t spell. We were talking in the hallway and another French girl, whose name is a lot like Margarine, came over and asked what we were doing tonight.
At the same time another foreign student from Wales who I know joined us as he also lives in our hallway and said the Erasmus students were all meeting at the fountain in the center at ten. So we all decided to go. The three of us who hadn’t eaten picked up some sandwiches and then made our way to a Barbarous, a bar pretty close to L’Oxymore. It was jam packed with people. So much you couldn’t move, literally. So we left to go to Barbarous, leaving almost half our party. Kirsten and I dived back into the mass to find our friends, getting picked up but various different guys on the way. French guys are pretty insistent sometimes. One told Kirsten “You are now my girlfriend” in really broken English and we had to ward him off. But that’s why you never go out alone!
So we made our way home and went to bed and now here I am. I’m really happy to be here so far, except for a few minor things here and there I’m really happy. Paperwork is one of them. Also having my passport to do ANYTHING. That’s a pain because I don’t like to carry it on me. But I miss all of you and hope that wherever you are you’re having fun and learning a lot and doing well!
Yes, I know, I’ve been away for a while. But to be honest, I haven’t had a free moment to sit down and write since I got to France. Every minute is filled with something, or someone, whether it’s paperwork or meeting new friends.
So right now I’m sitting in my new room on my bed with honey by my side and a huge 1,5 liter bottle of water. My allergies are attacking me horribly here! So bad that right now, I have absolutely no voice. It didn’t help that last night I met some really cool new people and forced talking in a loud bar. But I think it’s worth it to make new friends. (And don’t worry Mom J I’m fine. It’s definitely allergies because my ears and sinuses are stuffy and I don’t have a fever.)
I’m going to skip around a lot in my telling of what I’ve been up to, so bare with me.
Yesterday morning I woke up and I felt like I was going to cough my tonsils up. But of course, I didn’t. I have no class on Fridays (thank god!) so I put on some clothes and my glasses and walked to the pharmacy near the entrance to my campus. I forgot there was another about 100 ft from my dorm but oh well! Most pharmacies have a blinking green cross that is a beacon for sick or just people who think they are sick. Making a beeline through all the people accosting me with pamphlets on various groups and health care things, I made my way into a very odd looking store. I promise to go take a picture of a pharmacy at some point but at the time, that wasn’t exactly on my mind.
The pharmacy is absolutely pristine white and mostly open space. There are only a few things up around the wall and maybe one or two displays in the middle. All the boxes are white with very little writing on them and there are people nicely dressed behind a counter. No white jackets in France apparently! There was a man and a woman at the counter, both helping another customer but the man said “Bonjour,” as is customary when someone enters a store, and I attempted the customary reply. Almost nothing came out. Just a squeaky “Bon….” So immediately he looked at me and said “Vous a besoin de quelque chose” You need something. YES! So I attempted to explain my problem with hand gestures and meek sounds.
Thank god I’ve become pretty good at mouthing French! He picked up six things from behind the counter and told me about each of them. Lozenges and sprays, pills and creams. AH. So I asked which was best and ended up with a 3Euro spray can of something like Chloroseptic. For three euros it is gigantic. In the US I would estimate it to be around $10-15.
And thus with my little paper baggie of spray in hand I fought my way back through all the pamphlet people again, some of whom wished me good health because I could only manage a weak reply during the first pass.
Right outside my building I spotted another American student and asked her plans for the day. We both needed to go register for classes so we decided to go together because it’s much easier to wade through the chaotic world for French registration together (I’ll explain in a bit). So as she looked at my course book for Lettres Modernes I hopped in the shower and then we tried out my new French medicine.
It’s a menacing looking bottle when you have no idea what it is. I read all the directions in French and English and then attached the spray head. And nervously, I sprayed it into the back of my throat. First, it tastes disgusting. And it is super strong. Almost immediately my throat went numb, which was absolutely amazing and disorienting. And like magic, I could talk with ease.
But that completes the story of my pharmacy trip for now. I have a feeling I will return today to see if they have any over the counter allergy drugs. I’m not really sure how OTC works here.
So to explain how French registration works…. Well really I guess I should just start from the beginning.
Paris was awesome. I saw so much history in only a week. But I have to say my favorite things were the first full day in Paris, where we ate lunch in Champs de Mars at the base of the Eiffel Tower. Every time I would look up was a pretty LARGE reminder that I was now in France. I am REALLY here. After studying pictures of the damn thing for so long, it was an awing experience in real life.
My other favorite thing was the catacombs. We climbed down a TON of spiral stairs (which are really common in Paris, so if you hate them, you’re going to hate them even more) to a cavern underneath the city, even underneath the metro. We walked about a half mile in a dark alley, the ceiling just high enough for me to walk without bending over. Of course there were bat speakers everywhere that drove me crazy (I can hear the high pitched squeal) but after walking for a long time we came to the entrance to the catacombs. It is a really creepy looking entrance with the warning about it being the entrance to the dead above the doorway.
And when you enter, there are millions of bones surrounding you. Stacked in designs and pushed against the walls, there are millions upon millions of bones dating as far back as the 1500s, possibly even later. Even Robespierre is amongst them. But most of them are just average Parisians which is the coolest part. To think about how those people lived and how they died, it’s a pretty humbling experience. And others have thought the same thing, as little poems and quotes on plaques are placed among the stacks of bones.
The creepiest part of that was the ground had this white talcum stuff on it. Extremely slippery and it comes out with you when you leave the catacombs. I’m pretty sure that it is calcium deposits from the bones. It won’t come off my shoes so the dead Parisians are here with me in Montpellier.
Also in Paris I got to see Sebastian and meet his sister for the first time, which was amazing of course. Sebastian was an exchange student at Hendrix my freshman year and he came to visit Boston so I played tour guide for him. So he returned the favor in Paris. His sister is currently looking for an apartment in Paris so she was also free to come out with us for dinner and to walk around the city. They took us to all the places we didn’t get to see during the day. Which look even better at night, to be truly honest. Paris really is the City of Light. And by that I mean all the lights they have during the night!
My camera didn’t exactly work because I couldn’t charge my battery so Lukas has all the pictures (my traveling mate from Germany). As soon as I get them from him, I’ll post them up here.
So the morning we were leaving Paris I was obviously nervous. I ate my breakfast but very shortly it decided to leave me again. We packed up quickly and left the hotel and got to the train station. We were a bit late for my train, at least I thought, but apparently they don’t even announce which track the train is on in Europe until ten minutes before it leaves. I said goodbye to Lukas, who would be flying back to Germany, and boarded my train. Of course, I sat in the wrong seat the first time. So after moving my luggage and sitting down, the train ride began. It was nice to see the country flashing by me, to see the white cows and the vineyards. The little towns with stone churches in the distant rain finally made me say to myself “Yes, you will be here for a year.”
But upon my arrival from rainy cold Paris to tropically suppressing Montpellier, I stripped off my layers and got on the tram.
First off, the trams are adorable. There is two lines, my line being the blue one, the other line is orange and covered in flowers. Inside the tram it’s all pretty much the honors system. You get in and put your ticket in the ticket eater (composteur in French) and then just get off where you want. There are many people who have passes and many others who just get on the tram and have nothing. There are inspectors who go around randomly and check for violations and write tickets, but I’ve yet to see one though I have heard they target black women, who actually very often don’t have tickets.
Anyway, I got off at my stop, St. Eloi, with a ton of other students, who all promptly got on a bus. I didn’t want to risk going past my building, so I decided to foot it. It’s not very long and now I walk it everyday but with my luggage, it seemed like forever. I made it to campus and into the Administrative building, up the three flights of stairs (to the second floor by the way) and found my coordinator. He told me to come in and sit down and then we went over some really basic things. He sent me to my new residence and that was it. Come back tomorrow! Which seems to be the answer for everything.
So I climbed up a hill to my new residence. It’s a Cite Universitaire. Basically, it’s a gated set of buildings where students can live for next to nothing. An average French student pays about 80 Euros a month for my room, with government aid, and about 120 Euro a month for a renovated room, which includes a fridge, private bath, kitchen, and internet. Our rooms in Batiment E, the Chambre Simple, are equipped with a sink, bed, desk, and closet. No internet. To use the internet we must go to the lodge/lobby to use the free wifi there. Kinda a pain in the ass but oh well.
So my first night here, I unpacked all my things and journeyed to find something to eat. At this point my stomach was disagreeing with me but I found a grocery store and bought things to make a sandwich and some breakfast. Of course, once back in my room, I couldn’t eat a damn thing. I was so nervous and upset. And also alone. And it sucked. I was homesick for the second time since arriving to France, the first time being my first night in France, and I tried to call my friends to no avail.
I took some sleeping pills and went to sleep, waking the next morning to get to M. Amara’s office to go through paperwork. I hoped to meet other Americans but nope. I didn’t. So I went to the city center to look around and then came back to my area for dinner. Mistake number one. There is very little in the area in live in. But there is a nice little restaurant down the street that had a cheap and quick dinner. After dinner I tried to use my computer but couldn’t and eventually decided to come back to my room and sleep. The American students had a meeting the next day to talk about classes so I would meet some people then.
I got to the meeting after going downtown to buy some various things I needed and there were so many Americans there. Not just ISEP students, but a few other exchange programs. So all of the ISEP students went in to a classroom and they welcomed us and we all met each other. Then all the other Americans came in to talk about scheduling. From that point on, the ISEP students are pretty much on their own. We only get information if we ask questions. Just like Erasmus and French students. The other Americans have coordinators here who are also American or who only work with their one program.
So when all the other program students attacked the papers while we sat there not knowing what was going on, I met Kirsten Kinne. She and I had talked on the pone before coming here and I have no idea what it was but we are now attached at the hip. Maybe it’s because we speak to each other in French while all the Americans speak in English constantly (even if you speak to them in French they respond in English). I’m not sure. But now we do everything together. And it’s awesome to have her for support here.
We went to a little party the International House of Montpellier hosted for all the foreign students in Montpellier. So we met a lot of other people and then went out for dinner with another American from UPV and a Finnish guy also at UPV. Matt, the American, is a ceramics major, while the Finnish guy, Alexandre, I have no idea what he does. We ate a lovely dinner at an Indian restaurant and then afterwards joined the Erasmus group at L’Oxymore, a student oriented bar. I met so many people who were all so nice but to be honest, I have the hardest time trying to remember people’s names when they are in a different language.
Come Monday, I figured out a bit of what classes I was taking but not the times. In France, all the course descriptions are online, posted only about a week or two before school starts. Then all the times are posted in a display window (les panneaux) in the department’s building on campus. As the campus is gated on weekends, I had no idea what classes were what times. But apparently it’s the same deal for the French, who look at the sheets with the same amount of confusion as us foreign students.
In general, everyone is extremely helpful. I have yet to have anyone in Montpellier be utterly rude to me. Occasionally someone will crack a joke about the US but everyone really seems to be so polite and honest here. Sometimes I notice in the South of the US people are polite and helpful but sometimes they have a hint of being fake at the same time. People in the North are just blatantly honest and often rude because of that. But here in Montpellier, if you even look like you need help and ask with a smile, everyone is very polite and helps you, or directs you to someone who can.
For example, I just met my across-the-hall mate yesterday and she heard my voice. Immediately she gave me some home made honey to soothe my throat and some hot lemon water. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. I invited her to dinner last night, which I ended up being late for, but then she came out with us!
The same goes for all the professors here too. They are really understanding. Some more than others, but all of my professors are really nice and helpful. One even writes the words I make a strange face to on the board and if I still don’t look like I understand, she gives a quick synonym explanation. I think this semester will be hard but I can tell already my French is improving. I’ve only been here a week!
So between classes and paperwork, I’ve been meeting a lot of wonderful people, French and non-French. There are some Berbers who always hang out in the lobby on the Internet who have been really helpful to me, taught me some ins and outs of the French paperwork system, and even helped me pick out my cell phone plan (which I will buy today). They’ve let me use their computers to talk to my family and check my email when mine has had trouble. One of them is even giving me his old fridge he was going to throw away. They know what it’s like to be away from home and have nothing so they are all so nice and helpful. At this point I know about six words in Berber. Azul means hello.
In class the French students are very nice and let me copy off their notes during the class. They all find it very interesting that I come from Boston, study in Arkansas, and decided to come here. But I guess it is pretty interesting!
Because I know this is very long (sorry I’ve just got so much to say) I’m going to close it out with what I did yesterday.
After finding out that I had actually already registered for class as it’s only writing your name on the roll call, I went to lunch and found another American student named Cory waiting in line for a meal ticket. We ate lunch and then found Kirsten and we all went downtown to buy her art supplies and look for a cellphone plan. Remind me to explain how cell phones work in France at some point.
Anyway, we came back with all the information and I ran into a Berber guy whose name I have no idea to spell, we’ll call him M since it starts with an M (I think?). He sat down with me a told me which plan was best and also showed me a website that you can use to make free international calls with your cell phone. Made me pretty happy! So I then went back to downtown to try to buy mine but I forgot my passport and so I couldn’t get one. I was frustrated so I went to Mc Donald's and bought some fries.
A little taste of home and walking along the old streets and I was good as new. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and it was another American girl, Anne, who I have a grammar class with. She had just met some French people and invited me to have a drink at Fitzpatricks, an Irish bar near where she lived in downtown. So I of course said yes and had a really nice conversation with Pierre, Emeline and Anne. But that made me late for the dinner that my hall mate was so hesitant about coming to. Anne joined me and we walked as fast as we could from the tram to the caf but didn’t make it. So we went to the dorm, ran into Kirsten who was also late, and then picked up my hall mate, whose name I can’t spell. We were talking in the hallway and another French girl, whose name is a lot like Margarine, came over and asked what we were doing tonight.
At the same time another foreign student from Wales who I know joined us as he also lives in our hallway and said the Erasmus students were all meeting at the fountain in the center at ten. So we all decided to go. The three of us who hadn’t eaten picked up some sandwiches and then made our way to a Barbarous, a bar pretty close to L’Oxymore. It was jam packed with people. So much you couldn’t move, literally. So we left to go to Barbarous, leaving almost half our party. Kirsten and I dived back into the mass to find our friends, getting picked up but various different guys on the way. French guys are pretty insistent sometimes. One told Kirsten “You are now my girlfriend” in really broken English and we had to ward him off. But that’s why you never go out alone!
So we made our way home and went to bed and now here I am. I’m really happy to be here so far, except for a few minor things here and there I’m really happy. Paperwork is one of them. Also having my passport to do ANYTHING. That’s a pain because I don’t like to carry it on me. But I miss all of you and hope that wherever you are you’re having fun and learning a lot and doing well!
26.10.08
So it's been a while.
I just wrote a whole post and French blogger deleted it. So yeah. Haven't written in forever, sorry. I'm going to Germany this week but I promise to post entries from my journal when I get back!
24.8.08
A Few Moments.
I've been a bad blogger. It's been a while since I updated, I know! I've just been pretty busy. Last week I had the party on Sunday, which was a good time. I got to hang out with Dan and get all the food together first and then Ray arrived and we grilled the burgers and then the girls showed up to join in.
We sat around and watched movies and Dan ended up spending the night and while he was passed out on our pullout bed downstairs the girls and I watched American Pie and laughed about high school and past fun times. I wish I could spend more time with Ray and Lauren and Hilary because I never do! We're always in different places living busy lives. It's only a few days out of the year where our lives have the opportunity to intersect.
So my last week of work was very busy filling orders and making arrows. It was a good way to close out my summer though. James Cosimini, another archer who runs the Brandies team, will be taking my place on Saturdays, and a retired friend of my parents will be taking over weekdays when my Dad isn't around the shop. James is really knowledgeable about archery and at first I felt unsure because of some past personal issues I had with him but after watching him and training him in the store I feel a little better. I've been trying to find out more about him. He recently had a break with his long time girlfriend, who was the one who really had the problem with me. Friday night we grabbed a pizza after work and talked about breakups and watched Office Space. I had a better time than I thought I would. I kind of did it out of pity and knowing what a bad break can do and how much having someone give you the time to talk means. But it ends out that we actually had a pretty awesome time!
Saturday morning I got a text from my mom asking if I wanted to do Waterfire. It's a weekly event in Providence on the canal. Basically there's these little floating baskets that are chained to the bottom of the canal and black boats with people all dressed in black go with a torch and light them on fire and tend to the fires until just after midnight. Sometimes they light the whole canal, other times it's only a partial. Friends of my mom have been doing it for years and needed two more volunteers on their boat for their section and gave my mom a call. So after outfitting ourselves in all black we made our way to Providence to the team meeting where we were given the down low on how to stack the wood and light the fires. We were "part of the show" and were "meant to be invisible." Of course people waved but we weren't allowed to wave back, except for maybe a little shake of the hand at waist level.
We boarded our boat, which was stacked with wood on more than half of it and we all stood on the starboard side in a line facing forwards. Because it was my first time they let my light a number of baskets. We were first part of a procession down the canal to the large basin that has a circle of fire baskets. There was one boat with the flame in front of the audience and the other young guy in the boat held out the torch and lit our torch from the original one. Each boat has a torch about eight feet long and gets the flame during the procession. Then we divide up and go to our individual sections and light the baskets. We are constantly moving at about 5 mph so the torch is in the front of the boat and as soon as we get close enough, a wick made of newspaper is within reach. To lit it you have to shove the torch in as deep as you can to the wick, without knocking any of the stacked wood off the basket and keeping it on while the boat is moving away. It takes a bit of skill but it was really fun!
While going down the canal to the sounds of haunting music, I felt like a Venetian courtesan, being applauded for my skills, although mine were fire lighting and stacking on more wood, not being a woman of "entertainment" and intelligence. After lighting them we went back to the dock to take a break and wait for the fires to burn down a bit before stoking them. One of the women in our boat was named Liz and she'd been abroad for a year in college near Madrid. She told me it was the best decision of her life and told me I absolutely had to see the Prado if in Spain.
After a night of stoking fires from a boat, reaching out with two blocks of wood as far as I could reach at times, my legs are a bit bruised from falling wood and I slept today until very late. My Grandpa joined us for dinner tonight. We had my "last supper" as my parents kept dubbing it. I know they're going to miss me a lot considering every time an ad or show or movie refers to children moving on my mom starts bawling her eyes out and my dad gets teary eyed. My brother, Pat, is actually trying to be nice to me and tomorrow we're going to see Pineapple Express, my last American, non-dubbed, movie till Christmas.
Other than movie plans tomorrow will be a fun filled day of packing and getting my things settled at home. Making sure you've taken care of everything is always a worrying process. It's hard to know what you'll need to bring. I need to remember to take pictures of my family. Not that I don't have them on my computer but having an actual photo in my hand is always better.
I probably wont post until I'm in Paris, and that all depends on if internet is free at the hotel or not. Then it depends on if I can find free internet otherwise. But until then I'll be writing it out so I can post a bunch when I get internet again.
The plans so far are:
Aug 26th, depart for Paris at 10pm
Aug 27th, arrive in Paris at 2pm, go through customs and somehow find Lukas in the airport. Get to the hotel and find Sebastien and have a wonderful, Eiffel Tower filled night.
Enjoy Paris.
Sept 3rd, See Lukas off to the airport while making my way to the Gare de Lyon for a train around noontime to Montpellier. Then make my way to my new campus to meet one of the International Relations staff who will get me settled in my new dorm room.
Sept 4th, Meet the other ISEP girls and have a wonderful welcome to Montpellier, whatever that may be!
We sat around and watched movies and Dan ended up spending the night and while he was passed out on our pullout bed downstairs the girls and I watched American Pie and laughed about high school and past fun times. I wish I could spend more time with Ray and Lauren and Hilary because I never do! We're always in different places living busy lives. It's only a few days out of the year where our lives have the opportunity to intersect.
So my last week of work was very busy filling orders and making arrows. It was a good way to close out my summer though. James Cosimini, another archer who runs the Brandies team, will be taking my place on Saturdays, and a retired friend of my parents will be taking over weekdays when my Dad isn't around the shop. James is really knowledgeable about archery and at first I felt unsure because of some past personal issues I had with him but after watching him and training him in the store I feel a little better. I've been trying to find out more about him. He recently had a break with his long time girlfriend, who was the one who really had the problem with me. Friday night we grabbed a pizza after work and talked about breakups and watched Office Space. I had a better time than I thought I would. I kind of did it out of pity and knowing what a bad break can do and how much having someone give you the time to talk means. But it ends out that we actually had a pretty awesome time!
Saturday morning I got a text from my mom asking if I wanted to do Waterfire. It's a weekly event in Providence on the canal. Basically there's these little floating baskets that are chained to the bottom of the canal and black boats with people all dressed in black go with a torch and light them on fire and tend to the fires until just after midnight. Sometimes they light the whole canal, other times it's only a partial. Friends of my mom have been doing it for years and needed two more volunteers on their boat for their section and gave my mom a call. So after outfitting ourselves in all black we made our way to Providence to the team meeting where we were given the down low on how to stack the wood and light the fires. We were "part of the show" and were "meant to be invisible." Of course people waved but we weren't allowed to wave back, except for maybe a little shake of the hand at waist level.
We boarded our boat, which was stacked with wood on more than half of it and we all stood on the starboard side in a line facing forwards. Because it was my first time they let my light a number of baskets. We were first part of a procession down the canal to the large basin that has a circle of fire baskets. There was one boat with the flame in front of the audience and the other young guy in the boat held out the torch and lit our torch from the original one. Each boat has a torch about eight feet long and gets the flame during the procession. Then we divide up and go to our individual sections and light the baskets. We are constantly moving at about 5 mph so the torch is in the front of the boat and as soon as we get close enough, a wick made of newspaper is within reach. To lit it you have to shove the torch in as deep as you can to the wick, without knocking any of the stacked wood off the basket and keeping it on while the boat is moving away. It takes a bit of skill but it was really fun!
While going down the canal to the sounds of haunting music, I felt like a Venetian courtesan, being applauded for my skills, although mine were fire lighting and stacking on more wood, not being a woman of "entertainment" and intelligence. After lighting them we went back to the dock to take a break and wait for the fires to burn down a bit before stoking them. One of the women in our boat was named Liz and she'd been abroad for a year in college near Madrid. She told me it was the best decision of her life and told me I absolutely had to see the Prado if in Spain.
After a night of stoking fires from a boat, reaching out with two blocks of wood as far as I could reach at times, my legs are a bit bruised from falling wood and I slept today until very late. My Grandpa joined us for dinner tonight. We had my "last supper" as my parents kept dubbing it. I know they're going to miss me a lot considering every time an ad or show or movie refers to children moving on my mom starts bawling her eyes out and my dad gets teary eyed. My brother, Pat, is actually trying to be nice to me and tomorrow we're going to see Pineapple Express, my last American, non-dubbed, movie till Christmas.
Other than movie plans tomorrow will be a fun filled day of packing and getting my things settled at home. Making sure you've taken care of everything is always a worrying process. It's hard to know what you'll need to bring. I need to remember to take pictures of my family. Not that I don't have them on my computer but having an actual photo in my hand is always better.
I probably wont post until I'm in Paris, and that all depends on if internet is free at the hotel or not. Then it depends on if I can find free internet otherwise. But until then I'll be writing it out so I can post a bunch when I get internet again.
The plans so far are:
Aug 26th, depart for Paris at 10pm
Aug 27th, arrive in Paris at 2pm, go through customs and somehow find Lukas in the airport. Get to the hotel and find Sebastien and have a wonderful, Eiffel Tower filled night.
Enjoy Paris.
Sept 3rd, See Lukas off to the airport while making my way to the Gare de Lyon for a train around noontime to Montpellier. Then make my way to my new campus to meet one of the International Relations staff who will get me settled in my new dorm room.
Sept 4th, Meet the other ISEP girls and have a wonderful welcome to Montpellier, whatever that may be!
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