Today I saw a mime in the street. In France. And also a guy playing the accordian and wearing a beret.
How much do I love it when French cliches turn out to be real? Beaucoups!
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
France Rant 1: Bureaucracy
OK, I've tried to keep my blog fairly positive, but now I've come to a point where I just have to rant a little bit about the French. Sorry.
Before I blast into them, I would just like to say there are some things I love about living in France. Delicious baguettes for example...cliche, I know, but also true. Nothing like getting some damn fine artisan bread hot out of the bakery oven for less than a euro.
I also enjoy being able to buy a decent bottle of wine for 2-3euros. And the general culture that revolves around eating good food and drinking nice wine. All big plusses to la vie francaise.
Par contre (but, on the other hand), there are some really annoying things. Mainly the bureacracy and the fact that there is no such thing as customer service. Here, the customer is always wrong.
My first run-in dealing with French inefficiency (on a grand scale, not just the fact that it takes 30 minutes to get your food at McDonald's, totally defeating the point) has been over the last few weeks while I anxiously waited for my handball license from the French Federation. Whereas the US Olympic Committee was exceptionally fast and diligent, receiving all of my paperwork and filling it out and returning it the same day (thanks Mike!), the French took their time. In fact, it was almost four weeks before I heard anything from them. And the result? License denied!!!
My freaking license was denied because I didn't have my carte de sejour, which is the document that declares I am a temporary resident (for a year). So, I went in search of my carte de sejour. Even though we checked with the French Federation before and they said all I needed was my visa. Liars.
So, I arrive at the prefecture with every piece of paper I could possibly need, with 5 copies each. The prefecture is kind of like the Los Angeles DMV- a billion people there waiting to see a few pissed off bureaucrats who have no qualms about stepping outside for some coffee, a cigarette, and a 15 minute conversation despite huge lines and only two other people "working." You can spend your entire day at the Prefecture only to be told you are missing some inane piece of paper and will have to come back.
Luckily, after only waiting a few short hours I was told that since I was a student, I should go to the "Maison Etudients" to file my paperwork. So, I went about trying to find that building and then standing in line there. And of course, comme l'habitude (as usual), I didn't have everything I needed. I was missing a copy of the backside of a driver's license and, oh yeah, something that proved I had 1300euros in an account in France.
So, I spent the next two days collecting more random pieces of paper that they might want, and the things I was missing before. THey told me to bring 2 stamps, but I bought a booklet just in case. And an entire packet of enveloppes (even though they said to bring 1). I went to the bank to deposit the cash I pulled from my American account, and then the shit hit the fan. I asked for a copy of my statement to prove I had the money in my account, and they were like "sorry, it takes 1-2 days to get that."
I flipped. And I channeled my inner French person and refused to leave and pitched a fit until they got off their asses and did something to help me. They fought with me for 10-15 minutes before finally sitting down, opening the computer, and printing something that took 45 seconds to do. Seriously? And then they told me that I was lucky they were willing to make such an extraordinary effort on my behalf. Yeah, merci. Lazy asses.
So, with all of my papers in hand, I went back to file for my carte de sejour. And, a major miracle, I got it, on only the second try! Hooray! And thankfully I brought along the extra things, because I definitely needed 3 stamps and not 2, and also some papers they didn't ask for the first time. I'm telling you, they want all of this stuff, and they bitch if you don't have it, but they don't even read it or look at it if you do.
With that finished, I can only hope that the French Federation will unblock my license in time for me to play this weekend. I'm getting really anxious waiting!!
Before I blast into them, I would just like to say there are some things I love about living in France. Delicious baguettes for example...cliche, I know, but also true. Nothing like getting some damn fine artisan bread hot out of the bakery oven for less than a euro.
I also enjoy being able to buy a decent bottle of wine for 2-3euros. And the general culture that revolves around eating good food and drinking nice wine. All big plusses to la vie francaise.
Par contre (but, on the other hand), there are some really annoying things. Mainly the bureacracy and the fact that there is no such thing as customer service. Here, the customer is always wrong.
My first run-in dealing with French inefficiency (on a grand scale, not just the fact that it takes 30 minutes to get your food at McDonald's, totally defeating the point) has been over the last few weeks while I anxiously waited for my handball license from the French Federation. Whereas the US Olympic Committee was exceptionally fast and diligent, receiving all of my paperwork and filling it out and returning it the same day (thanks Mike!), the French took their time. In fact, it was almost four weeks before I heard anything from them. And the result? License denied!!!
My freaking license was denied because I didn't have my carte de sejour, which is the document that declares I am a temporary resident (for a year). So, I went in search of my carte de sejour. Even though we checked with the French Federation before and they said all I needed was my visa. Liars.
So, I arrive at the prefecture with every piece of paper I could possibly need, with 5 copies each. The prefecture is kind of like the Los Angeles DMV- a billion people there waiting to see a few pissed off bureaucrats who have no qualms about stepping outside for some coffee, a cigarette, and a 15 minute conversation despite huge lines and only two other people "working." You can spend your entire day at the Prefecture only to be told you are missing some inane piece of paper and will have to come back.
Luckily, after only waiting a few short hours I was told that since I was a student, I should go to the "Maison Etudients" to file my paperwork. So, I went about trying to find that building and then standing in line there. And of course, comme l'habitude (as usual), I didn't have everything I needed. I was missing a copy of the backside of a driver's license and, oh yeah, something that proved I had 1300euros in an account in France.
So, I spent the next two days collecting more random pieces of paper that they might want, and the things I was missing before. THey told me to bring 2 stamps, but I bought a booklet just in case. And an entire packet of enveloppes (even though they said to bring 1). I went to the bank to deposit the cash I pulled from my American account, and then the shit hit the fan. I asked for a copy of my statement to prove I had the money in my account, and they were like "sorry, it takes 1-2 days to get that."
I flipped. And I channeled my inner French person and refused to leave and pitched a fit until they got off their asses and did something to help me. They fought with me for 10-15 minutes before finally sitting down, opening the computer, and printing something that took 45 seconds to do. Seriously? And then they told me that I was lucky they were willing to make such an extraordinary effort on my behalf. Yeah, merci. Lazy asses.
So, with all of my papers in hand, I went back to file for my carte de sejour. And, a major miracle, I got it, on only the second try! Hooray! And thankfully I brought along the extra things, because I definitely needed 3 stamps and not 2, and also some papers they didn't ask for the first time. I'm telling you, they want all of this stuff, and they bitch if you don't have it, but they don't even read it or look at it if you do.
With that finished, I can only hope that the French Federation will unblock my license in time for me to play this weekend. I'm getting really anxious waiting!!
Monday, October 1, 2007
Great French Moments!!
OK- I thought the first one was an isolated experience, but now that I have two of what I call "Great French Moments"- I'm going to share them with you!
As we all know, the French are a little different than Americans. However you want to describe them, I think it is kind of like Eddie Izzard says- "They are French, they are spikey, because...well, they're fucking French!"
Things that I doubt you would see in the USA, or at least not with the same emotion:
1) I was walking down the street downtown a few weekends ago, right off of the main shopping district at the Place de la Comedie, when a girl comes out of what must be an apartment door. She is dressed in normal clothes, and walking calmly down the street. 30 seconds later, a guy (who happened to be really cute and have a nice bod) comes running after her, dressed only in boxer shorts. He is yelling at her, begging her to turn around, which she finally does and coldly says something to him (which I wish I knew enough French to understand), then keeps walking. Then he starts crying. A grown-ass man, half-naked in the street crying...like, for real crying, tears and the whole mess. Then he starts walking after her, begging her to come back, and crying while she completely ignores him. I try not to stop and stare, but well, I stop and stare, because I have NEVER seen such a dramatic movie-like scene in my life. It was like that scene in Bridget Jones when Bridget goes after Colin Firth in her underwear, only reversed and in French. This continues for several blocks until they are out of eyesight, at which point I have to move on.
LOVE it. Almost as European as dropping kitchen appliances out of windows like they do in the movies when they are pissed.
2) My second great moment came yesterday when I was eating lunch with a friend in a restaurant downtown. We were enjoying ourselves when all of a sudden we heard the crash of pots and pans and screaming coming from the kitchen. The restaurant, which was packed at the time and had been filled with the sound of loud conversation, fell silent as everyone listened to the cook screaming at someone in the kitchen. He literally slammed something down on the floor and SCREAMED, as loud as possible. "You do NOT talk to me like that, you DO NOT talk to me like that- I said, DON'T EVER TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, I am NOT your dog!" Seriously? A French chef throwing things in the kitchen and pitching a royal fit so loud that everyone in the restaurant stops their conversation in awe. Fabulous. I have never experienced anything like that in my entire life!
I heart France, these moments just lighten my life!!
As we all know, the French are a little different than Americans. However you want to describe them, I think it is kind of like Eddie Izzard says- "They are French, they are spikey, because...well, they're fucking French!"
Things that I doubt you would see in the USA, or at least not with the same emotion:
1) I was walking down the street downtown a few weekends ago, right off of the main shopping district at the Place de la Comedie, when a girl comes out of what must be an apartment door. She is dressed in normal clothes, and walking calmly down the street. 30 seconds later, a guy (who happened to be really cute and have a nice bod) comes running after her, dressed only in boxer shorts. He is yelling at her, begging her to turn around, which she finally does and coldly says something to him (which I wish I knew enough French to understand), then keeps walking. Then he starts crying. A grown-ass man, half-naked in the street crying...like, for real crying, tears and the whole mess. Then he starts walking after her, begging her to come back, and crying while she completely ignores him. I try not to stop and stare, but well, I stop and stare, because I have NEVER seen such a dramatic movie-like scene in my life. It was like that scene in Bridget Jones when Bridget goes after Colin Firth in her underwear, only reversed and in French. This continues for several blocks until they are out of eyesight, at which point I have to move on.
LOVE it. Almost as European as dropping kitchen appliances out of windows like they do in the movies when they are pissed.
2) My second great moment came yesterday when I was eating lunch with a friend in a restaurant downtown. We were enjoying ourselves when all of a sudden we heard the crash of pots and pans and screaming coming from the kitchen. The restaurant, which was packed at the time and had been filled with the sound of loud conversation, fell silent as everyone listened to the cook screaming at someone in the kitchen. He literally slammed something down on the floor and SCREAMED, as loud as possible. "You do NOT talk to me like that, you DO NOT talk to me like that- I said, DON'T EVER TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, I am NOT your dog!" Seriously? A French chef throwing things in the kitchen and pitching a royal fit so loud that everyone in the restaurant stops their conversation in awe. Fabulous. I have never experienced anything like that in my entire life!
I heart France, these moments just lighten my life!!
Jen Drives Stick 4: Elle na marche pas
So, over the last few weeks my little car has had a few hiccups, and not any attributable to me. It has stopped randomly and not wanted to start again, most of the time in harmless places (like the parking lot at the gym), but once in the BIG round-about in Montpellier. That did not go well.
Naturally, I alerted my host family that there was a problem, and they took it into the garage last week to be checked out. "Oh, no, la voiture marche bien...pas des problems!" said the guy at the garage (Oh no, it is working just fine, no problems at all). So, I looked like an idiot American that doesn't know how to drive a French car. But even an idiot American can start a car, I mean, really. When it just sits there and refuses to crank up (well, you can crank it, but it doesn't turn over), it isn't because I'm used to driving an automatic!!
Anyway, I was hoping that the problem would remain rare or go away completely, but I guess mechanical problems don't fix themselves. The car stopped again yesterday when I was driving downtown, but eventually, as usual, it restarted again after a few minutes of trying. So, when it did it again on the way to school today, I was concerned, but at least I made it to class on time and the car was running OK.
I thought maybe it was frustrated because it was low on gas, so I took it to the station to fill it up and it broke down in line at the gas station. Some people behind me got out to push my car into the pump, but after I filled it up, it stopped again!! I cranked it and cranked it and finally got it going, only for it to die 15 seconds later in the middle of the road (THANKFULLY in a turning lane so I wasn't blocking TOO much traffic).
Then, the same people who came to help me before, turned around the road and came back to help me out. Of all of the luck, after speaking bad french for a minute, the woman was like "Do you speak English" and I was like, YES! Turned out she was Irish and her fiancee was American and they were my good Samaritans of the day.
Simon, the American (who comes from Pasedena), got out and pushed my car into the parking lot where he and his fiancee Ceira helped me phone the tow truck, the garage, and finally a taxi to take me home. They stood by me in the parking lot for an hour trying to help me sort everything out. I couldn't believe my luck! Of all people to stop and help (I guess it shows that the Americans, and apparently Irish, are MUCH nicer than the French who didn't stop to help but instead honked at me and yelled obscenities when I was broken down), two people who speak English! And luckily they'd been living in France for 5 years, so they also spoke very good French, and that helped me make it through all of the phone calls I couldn't have done by myself.
Yay for guardian angels! So, now my little French car is in the shop- HOPEFULLY getting fixed this time. Thankfully I have a rental now so I can go to class and practice tomorrow, it was kind of strange having to get around without it this afternoon.
Naturally, I alerted my host family that there was a problem, and they took it into the garage last week to be checked out. "Oh, no, la voiture marche bien...pas des problems!" said the guy at the garage (Oh no, it is working just fine, no problems at all). So, I looked like an idiot American that doesn't know how to drive a French car. But even an idiot American can start a car, I mean, really. When it just sits there and refuses to crank up (well, you can crank it, but it doesn't turn over), it isn't because I'm used to driving an automatic!!
Anyway, I was hoping that the problem would remain rare or go away completely, but I guess mechanical problems don't fix themselves. The car stopped again yesterday when I was driving downtown, but eventually, as usual, it restarted again after a few minutes of trying. So, when it did it again on the way to school today, I was concerned, but at least I made it to class on time and the car was running OK.
I thought maybe it was frustrated because it was low on gas, so I took it to the station to fill it up and it broke down in line at the gas station. Some people behind me got out to push my car into the pump, but after I filled it up, it stopped again!! I cranked it and cranked it and finally got it going, only for it to die 15 seconds later in the middle of the road (THANKFULLY in a turning lane so I wasn't blocking TOO much traffic).
Then, the same people who came to help me before, turned around the road and came back to help me out. Of all of the luck, after speaking bad french for a minute, the woman was like "Do you speak English" and I was like, YES! Turned out she was Irish and her fiancee was American and they were my good Samaritans of the day.
Simon, the American (who comes from Pasedena), got out and pushed my car into the parking lot where he and his fiancee Ceira helped me phone the tow truck, the garage, and finally a taxi to take me home. They stood by me in the parking lot for an hour trying to help me sort everything out. I couldn't believe my luck! Of all people to stop and help (I guess it shows that the Americans, and apparently Irish, are MUCH nicer than the French who didn't stop to help but instead honked at me and yelled obscenities when I was broken down), two people who speak English! And luckily they'd been living in France for 5 years, so they also spoke very good French, and that helped me make it through all of the phone calls I couldn't have done by myself.
Yay for guardian angels! So, now my little French car is in the shop- HOPEFULLY getting fixed this time. Thankfully I have a rental now so I can go to class and practice tomorrow, it was kind of strange having to get around without it this afternoon.
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