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. :)
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. :)
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