Bureaucracy, Chartres and “Sinking In”

I believe I made a comment in one of my previous “installments” mentioning something to the effect that I hadn’t yet begun to “sink in” to what I’m doing here yet. Well, I think I can safely say that I’ve begun. For better or for worse!

Just in the last couple of weeks so many dynamics have changed at home, at work, and in my heart. It’s good. Also, some crazy events and some very FRENCH experiences.

First: BUREAUCRACY. French bureaucracy. Experiences with such are almost never pleasant, short, or effective, and recent events have proven to be no exception. The word makes me shudder even on State-side of the ocean--but it’s way worse here.

So, I’m supposed to fly out of Paris on December 17th. In 3 days. My temporary work visa has not yet been validated and while leaving the country should be no problem, getting back in could be an issue without the validation “stamp” that I supposedly get....eventually.

When I moved here, I had to send in my immigration papers as soon as imaginably possible after acquiring a legitimate resident address. Then, since I hadn’t heard anything back after two months, I showed up (after being so advised by my employer) at the immigration office across town to find out what was going on. I was instructed to just fill out the papers again and this time with my e-mail address. “For quicker”.

Nothing. I got an e-mail from Washington DC instructing me to go to my local “préfecture” to get a simple “visa de retour” to come back without worries. Supposedly a simple process, and the necessary paperwork was efficiently listed for me.

I did my homework and found out that in Paris there are two “préfectures”--one for the Police and then the regular one. The “préfecture de police” was where I supposedly needed to go. So, I did. And stood in line twice only to have the lady tell me, rudely, twice that there was nothing they could do and that they didn’t issue “visas”. The room she works in is called the “salle de visa”: visa room. Go figure.

So, tried the regular “préfecture”, and explained my situation and was promptly and kindly directed back to the “préfecture de police”. When I described my previous and disagreeable encounters there, they called the woman herself where I once more was told that she knew not of my situation or what to do. Go back, said she, to the immigration office and get instructed on EXACTLY what you must do.

I went back to the Office Français d’Immigration et d’Intégration. I waited en queue, of course, like a good French immigrant. Then, when I approached the counter to “get instructed” I was not sure how to feel about the fact that the guy at the welcome desk recognized me from my previous visit. Everything in me said, “not good when immigration recognizes you”. But anyway, he was cute (though married....) and I got helped. And by helped I mean “got instructed” that I would be OK coming back into France even without this mystical and so very unattainable validations stamp because I’m from the United States. “Ils acceptent cela, c’est pas grave...” (They’ll accept that....) ??!!

I then got an e-mail a few days later from the Rectorat of the school district instructing us imposing immigrants to NOT go to the préfecture because they can’t do anything....

So, hopefully I’ll be able to get back into France after I go home for the Holidays. We’ll see. That could be a whole ‘nother blog entry just waiting to happen....

ANyway. I decided that day to book it out to Chartres anyway. If I played my cards right I could have a few hours out there and be back in time for dinner.

As soon as I had left Paris proper on the train south, it began to dump snow. It was beautiful! I was giggling like a little girl, sitting on the train and watching people’s reactions to the weather at every train stop. I thought nothing of it until, due to the snow--somehow--and 5 kilometers before arriving in the town of Chartres (RAIL CREW THIS IS FOR YOU!!!)....wait for it....a TREE fell on the railroad tracks and the train stopped indefinitely.

I had to laugh. Having spent the amount of time that I have on railroad tracks and faced as many railroad issues as my last 4 summers have afforded, I had to LAUGH. I also just sat there and listened to the updates on the work at watched the flakes flurry until I realized that a group was forming to actually walk to the town of Chartres. I had worn a skirt, and hadn’t planned on hiking in my boots. However, as soon as I saw the smorgasbord of French people that were going to brave the snow, I was NOT going to let them be more hard core than me. I’ll admit that it’s slightly egotistical if not a little judgmental, but I think it would have wounded my Northwest American heart. At first I kept sliding around the ice in my ill-equipped footwear and I momentarily considered hitchhiking. But, I decided not to since A) all the male members of my family would kill me and B) the French do not know how to drive in the snow. Seriously, Subaru would do well to open a dealership or two in the suburbs here....

I hiked, and it was beautiful. We walked along the Eure river and by some beautiful homes--including one that looked like a castle and I caught my breath as I watched a goose take flight from the water at one point. I hadn’t realized how much I missed wildlife until I had that brief moment. I was so glad I’d gotten off the train. That 5 km jaunt is one I’ll never forget.





I finally got to Chartres about an hour and a quarter later than I’d planned. I finally saw the church that I’d wanted to see for over 10 years. I first learned about this famous cathedral in my “première année” of French studies. I’ve wanted to see it ever since. It’s famous for having two architecturally different types of towers, and it’s remarkable. It’s also known for it’s stained glass windows, which I had a few moments to appreciate before nightfall. It really was beautiful.





Since I had gotten there too late to explore the local museum, I walked around the town (which felt like Narnia) and then popped into one of the cafe/tea houses to try and jot down some of the day. My train was supposed to leave at 6:40pm, but due to weather I didn’t leave till after 7pm and eventually returned a very tired girl after stopping to purchase dinner on the way home at a very bad Chinese restaurant. Note to self: probably the worst Chinese food I’ve ever eaten.

I had to work the next day and the weather was still bad. Nevertheless, I got on the train out to Rosny sous bois in the banlieue and then found out the buses weren’t running in the town. I had to walk 45 minutes again in the snow to school. Once again, it was beautiful and I was happy to do so, as you can probably see:



At home things have changed so much. A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of accompanying Madame to the train station and back with her heavy suitcase. I have been amazed since at what a difference such a gesture has made in her demeanor.

She calls me “la petite” and gets worried if I’m out late (past 8pm) because I’m usually home fairly early, and so I’ve learned to call. She loves to hear about my adventures and both she and Nicolas like to laugh at my crazy escapades...such as walking to Chartres from the train.

In France, they celebrate their name saint days. Saint Nicolas day was last week and Madame made a wonderful meal for all of us. And I do mean wonderful. I’m really blessed to begin to see this more generous side of her. I also love to hear her stories about how she got to Paris and how she packed her bad one time and headed to the airport to see where she could go with a week off and no passport. This last weekend I had a friend in town and my heart was warmed with the reception Madame gave her in “our” home...I think I’ve somehow broken through with this woman. Last night the three of us, Nicolas, Madame and myself when to the Champs-Elysées to experience the Christmas market going on there. She hung onto my arm the entire time, and I have to say it feels good to be in the granddaughter role again. :)

I leave in a couple of days and I am very excited. I’m also very excited that I probably won’t be dreading coming back either. I’m still pretty sure I’ll never be a city girl (Madame referred to me today as her little field mouse, which made me laugh!), but I am beginning to sink in and enjoy my 9 month foray into this very, very big city. Already I know there will be things I’ll miss immediately upon leaving, like *ahem* the FOOD, and even the language. Which is also starting to click....I think I might be “sinking in”. I’m glad. It certainly hasn’t looked like I would have imagined, but then, nothing ever does. Bonne nuit et à bientôt. :)

Nuances and Approaching the French

I’m getting a little more comfortable. (Insert smile here) This is a relief. Though, I still have a long way to go and I’ll never be a true Parisian. Nevertheless, there are some nuances to my short term “life” here in Paris that I’m beginning to pick up on, if not rely on a bit. For instance....

The floor at my house creaks. I think I mentioned it before. I love it. It feels old and quintessentially Parisian, but also LOUD. I’m learning which way each of the door knobs turn--for they’re all different. I’m learning when to put my wash in a how long it takes to dry and how to take advantage of the natural light in my bedroom during the day and suffer the cold for it too. I'm learning how to make the shower head work to my advantage finally, since the hot water is never reliable or steady. But I'm figuring it out.

I frequent the same bakery every day and the lady knows me. She knows I’m used to the snow and that I teach English. One day, I went in exceptionally early and she was so excited to see me, because she had some customers that spoke only English and they were all struggling. I helped out and now we’re friends.

I’ve figured out the Metro pretty darn well. There are many lines and areas of Paris that I’ve still yet to step foot in, but I now know which part of the train to get on when I’m running late so that I don’t have to walk as far and which platform my train out to the banlieues leaves from and the times that they leave each hour....so much easier now. I have the RER-train-announcer-lady's speech memorized too. And not for trying. Votre attention, s'il vous plait. Ce train desservie tous les gares jusqu'à Villier sur Marne... "Your attention please, this train serves all the stations through Villier sur Marne..."

I get stopped and asked for directions often. I feel complimented because that means that I look like I know where I’m at and where I’m going. Most of the time I can help to, which is amazing considering I’m generally so bad with directions!

I’m learning where to buy my groceries and when. In the morning and evening is when the bread is baked in Paris...by law, and there’s a open air market by my house every Friday with delicious rosted pomme de terres. Also, I am ecstatic to have found a specialty whole bean coffee vendor around the corner from me!! Good coffee beans are not as prolific in Paris as one would think, and I’m fast becoming friends with “Ludo”--he knows me already too.

Everyday I look at Sacré Cœur to see what the weather’s going to be like that day. My favorite is when the sky is blue, no matter how cold, because it makes the church stand out in stark contrast--elle est si blanche et belle.

It’s still weird to me sometimes that, if it’s the right time of day, I only have to walk down a couple flights of stairs to buy bread. Or cheese--that’s a different shop--or go to the bank or get a cup of coffee. It’s all compacted and within walking distance. AND I haven’t driven a car in over two months!

I smile sometimes watching people in the streets or in cafes, because sometimes it all reminds me of the opening scene in Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” where the whole town opens their windows and runs through the streets declaring “Bonjour!” And then the baker sells the same bread every day, and the same woman orders eggs from the same gentleman every day as well....There so much of that that is accurate!

But, anyway, I’m thrilled to be finding a groove in my neighborhood, in my job, and in my home. I am so glad to be discovering these new nuances that maybe I’ve always taken for granted in the States.

I’m also learning how to approach these French too; those renowned rude Parisians. This is huge. I’ve learned that it is cultural to always verbally greet someone who shares some sort of quotidian commonality. Usually it goes no farther than “bonjour” or “bonsoir” depending on the time of day, but I must always greet the people at school or in the apartment complex, regardless of whether or not I’ve been introduced to them. However, if none of that quotidian common ground is shared, this is not otherwise done in passing. However, upon entering a shop or cafe, a “bonjour” is necessary as well, even if it’s not directed at anyone in particular--it’s still noticed.

If you need help or have a question--which is considerably more than utterly and entirely inevitable in this city--all that is required, is a little politesse: “I’m sorry to bother you, Monsieur (Madame)...” Then you wait for them to say that you’re not bothering them at all...or you talk over them while they’re saying that to do your business and acquire the services or information desired. If the conversation prolongs, you interject at some appropriate point, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak French very well....je m’excuse...” And then they take the time to tell you at least that it’s not a problem or they’ll even disagree and compliment your language skills, all the while bending over backwards IF and quite usually only IF you follow this code and dance this social dance. Sometimes this ends up in a conversation about where I’m from too, Oregon and Alaska and then Sarah Palin...which is *sigh* unpleasant. Sometimes I just say I’m from the West Coast, that encompasses both Oregon and Alaska, right?!

Now that I’ve figured it out, I kind of like it. The magic words are “Excusez-moi de vous déranger....”, a humble attitude and a smile. I’m a student of this culture and this city, the Parisians know this--and as long as they know that I know this too, they will go to great lengths to help.

I’ve found that this motivates me, too, to pass this on to others. If I’m in my neighborhood and see a couple or a group huddled over a map, and brabbling in English, I’m happy to help (and speak English for a few moments too!). The other day I was waylaid by a Portuguese family looking for a particular restaurant in Montmartre. I didn’t know where it was, but I was able to ask. I love that.

Paris is at once easy to access and incredibly confusing. One may have options galore, but to actually fully access them, there is some protocol involved. Honestly, I cannot begrudge the French for requiring a bit of manners to access their goodwill. Perhaps the world could use a few more manners anyway.

That said, I feel that I must take leave with the traditional French (as I promised myself that this blog entry would not be as epic as the last): “Merci beaucoup, et bonne soirée. Au revoir!