Toot! Toot! All Aboard the Orientation Express!

Today we had orientation and, oh my goodness, do I think I'm going to love this! Our class is made up of 38 people -- 23 girls and 15 boys. Everyone seems really nice and friendly, and I feel like I've already made some friends. We all went around and introduced ourselves and I think the following is a complete list of all of the countries represented: France, Greece, Switzerland, Germany, Hungary, Spain, Luxembourg, Venezuela, Brazil, Israel, Lebanon, United States, United Kingdom, Canada, Mexico, Korea, Japan, Taiwan and China. And that's only for 38 people (many of whom have dual and triple citizenship)!

My introduction was the first of only two to get a round of applause. I'm still not entirely sure what prompted such a display. Was it the fact that I was the only one to hold up and clearly present my paper name card to every student in the class, even the ones behind me (something I felt was necessary when dealing with a room full of multicultural names)? Perhaps it was my mention of my sisters and brother back at home. Or the love of running and horseback riding? It could have been my following "I most recently worked at a law firm hiring lawyers" with "yikes." We may never know. The other person to get applauded was the 51-year-old student, who certainly deserves a hand.

After the morning session, we had lunch in the nice cantine on campus. When I heard them pop open the champagne, I realized that I had indeed made a wise scholastic choice. Three hours of computer training followed. Yawn. However, I do feel all ready to go now.

After school, I came back to Cergy Le Haut with some new friends and then coerced one of them to go to the pharmacy with me for moral support. Yes, that's right, I'm already sick! Ugh! I think the 40 degree temperature drop, the plane and stress have taken toll. It's the same old stupid thing I always get when the seasons change so it should be gone soon.

Anyway, you can't buy any type of medication without talking to a pharmacist so into the drug store I went, armed with limited medical French. Luckily, the pharmacist was very nice and "I would like something . . . well, you can hear the problem," got me exactly what I needed. She gave me some throat drops and a dissolvable powder that tastes like drugged lemonade (not so bad). Again, tout à fait en français!

I was particulary psyched to read that paracetamal was one of the main ingrediants. Now we can start importing it from Scotland and France, although I have to ask for it and they might not want to give me 50 boxes at a time. Paul, keep stocking up.

Day 1 accomplished. Adventures to follow. Bon weekend! I don't know what is in this stuff, but I've got to go lie down now.

Tout à Fait En Français!

I’ve been doing okay with the French. It’s still nerve-wracking to speak it. So far, it’s very similar to my learning to drive a stick-shift this summer. Most of the time, it’s the only means of getting to where you want to go so you’d better jump in and do it. I started out by speaking slowly only to have the other person stall out on me and answer in English. A few days later and I’m heading in the right direction, but as my little brother said of my driving this summer, “it’s a little jerky.”

Today, however, a sort of breakthrough occurred! For Eliot, Jamie and Anne (my computer geniuses), you’ll be so happy to hear that I had to call the school help desk. I didn’t want to call the help desk, but after an hour of trying to no avail to find the wireless internet, I finally broke down. I dialed the number. He answered in French. I told him in French that I was new and couldn’t access the Internet. French: “What’s the problem exactly?” Eek! Another question! “My computer doesn’t recognize the Wifi.” “Oh, you need a cable. There isn’t wireless in the residence halls. Get a cable and call us back if you have any problems. Bonne journée.” Merci! Problem solved all in French! Off I went to Auchan.

Auchan is magnifique. Thus far, I have found everything I need there. I was feeling a little more emboldened by my computer help line success so I decided to get help with locating the peanut butter in the grocery store section, which is humongous! “Je cherches le beurre de cacahuètes.” This got me led to the actual peanuts, but after another minute of deciphering, the grocery store lady took me to the Skippy. Weee! Tout à fait en français!

“Oh, C’est Chouette, Le Guignol!"

Today I went to Paris. It’s so fun being able to write that. I went to Paris this afternoon just to walk around. I started off with a few of my map cards that have little walks on them. I started at the Arc de Triumphe and walked down the Champs-Elysées until I got distracted by little parks and streets. Eventually, I ended up in the Jardin des Tuileries, where I had fun watching the little children poke at toy boats with sticks in the boat pond. In New York, we also had a boat pond, where there were toy boats with motors and remote controls. Until yesterday, I would have said that children would have infinitely more fun with motorized boats, but it seems that I would have been wrong. Children appear to have just as much fun waiting for the wind to push a wooden boat close to a pond’s edge just so they can jab at it with a pole and send it back toward the other side of the pool.

Beth (comma) you will be happy to know that I also saw the home of le guignol! Mais oui, le vrai guignol! He was not performing. I bet he is saving that for when you come to visit.

Having written this, I realize it reads as if I am having absolutely no directional issues, which might be surprising to some of you who have traveled with me before. Here’s the deal – Cergy Le Haut is the last stop on the train so I really can’t go wrong in getting on any train in town because it will most certainly be heading toward Cergy-Préfecture and Paris. The rest has just been luck. I’ve been sticking with my NYC-developed plan: read sign to the best of abilities; get on train; cross fingers; work out the rest later. It seems to be going alright so far.

Last night I followed the advice of three Francophiles and watched French tv . . . in an attempt to improve my French. Right. I’m sure I subconsciously picked up on some things. Things I definitely picked up: The Simpsons are just a little bit off in French – Marge is real scary and Homer doesn’t sound nearly as dumb (Krusty Le Clown – pronounced “kloon” – however, is pretty spot on), European commercials are still as disturbingly confusing as they were when I lived in Edinburgh, and French soap operas look like they could be just as wonderful as Latin American telenovelas. The last presents a good case for learning French as quickly as possible.

I finished my television adventure with two movies: Coyote Ugly (translated Coyote Girls) and Blue Crush. Since I hadn’t seen the first, I think I missed some important plot developments which might have explained more clearly why LeAnn Rimes was singing on the bar at the end of the movie. Blue Crush is just as good in French as it is in English, which probably means all of the dialogue is horrible. I still like it. Fortunately, the word for pipeline in French is essentially the same (pronounced "peepline") so I might be able to whip that out in a conversation and look sort of extreme sport knowledgeable for a second.

To School

My residence hall is located in a village called Cergy Le Haut. I have a room on the 4th floor in a part of the building that from the outside resembles a slightly futuristic sardine can. I haven’t wandered around much, but we have a little shop in the lobby, a workout room, a tennis court, a games room and two laundry rooms.

I have a little studio that has a main room with bed, a big desk, a big window, some shelves, a little dining table, a closet and a tv (I was shocked by this because I don’t recall seeing any standard-issue tv’s when I visited colleges). I have a little kitchen – Lori, think 97th Street revisited – and a nice bathroom. Phew. I know you are all relieved about the bathroom since just about everyone knew that was my one hang-up about dorm-life.

From my room, I have a view of the train and town, which is mostly made up of similar looking cream apartment buildings. Apparently, the train is very quiet. I know it runs because trains come and go, but I haven’t heard it once. Somewhere there is a clock that I hear chime on the hour, but I haven’t seen a church or a chiming clock in town yet. Cergy Le Haut is small, but it has all of the necessary things. It has about 5 hairdressers and 7 banks (these two places seem to be the most prevalent in any town here), a bakery for all of the baguettes, a movie theater, a grocery store, a flower & gift store and a place called the “Garage du Pain” or “Bread Garage.” I’m guessing it’s similar to the Gourmet Garage. Let’s hope.

I spent most of Saturday unpacking and made one trip to Franprix, my new grocery store. Franprix is very Franfun. There are lots of new things to eat. Everything is in nice little packages with pictures of cute little food items or cartoon animals. Shopping is so cheery. I did want to buy the happy porcupine kitchen sponges, but they were too expensive. I did settle on the Okay! paper towels with a picture of an elephant.

I didn’t set my alarm for Sunday morning and ended up sleeping until 4 in the afternoon (so much for getting over jetlag quickly). By the time I should have been going to bed, I had only been up 7 hours. Needless to say, that didn’t work out very well.

This morning, I went to Cergy-Préfecture to sign my room insurance form and visit school. The building where my program is was just renovated and is very nice. I met the two administrators from my program and they could not have been more welcoming. One treated me to coffee and gave me a tour of campus. After a couple of days wandering about on my own, it was a relief to see my new home-base.

Next was the conquering of Auchan, a store which is a step up from a Wal-mart, but not quite a SuperTarget. I got beaucoup de necessary items for my room and took them home. Next I braved the town Tabac for a phone card and then proceeded to spend 15 minutes in the phone booth trying to figure out how to call home. Of course, I have a phone in my room, but I have no idea how to use it for external calls. Actually, I don’t even know my number.

Le Voyage: A Tale of a Girl & 250 Pounds of Luggage

The trip went well. The JetBlue people really are as fun as they portray themselves to be on the commercials. They are so fun that if you are nice to them, they will let you spend 10 minutes at the counter redistributing the weight of your 250 lbs of stuff between your 3 bags. Then, if you ask “Can the extra bag be free today?” they will say no, but then not charge you for 25 of the 50 lbs that you were over. It was a good start.

Luckily, I had a 5-hour layover at JFK. It took me just about that long to get myself from Terminal 3 to Terminal 1 and check-in. A nice dad, who was dropping his daughter for her freshman year at NYU, helped me load my suitcase friends onto my $3 “Smartcart,” which actually turned out to be smarter than I. After deciding that the right wheel just didn’t work, I started dragging the little Smarty-pants-cart from its front through the 8-mile long taxi line. Again, the nice dad decided to step in and solve the problem by figuring out that you needed to lift the handle to turn the brake off. If the Smartcart was so smart, it would tell you more clearly how it worked.

Throughout Terminal 1, skycaps kept popping up at just the right time so I was never stranded with my 250-lb baby. The flight over was good and I managed to badger the counter people into giving me an aisle seat. Air France was lovely and they don’t bother you very much. The food seemed better than most, but I was too nervous to eat anything except the bread and chocolate pudding.

We were delayed 2 hours on leaving New York so I was a little worried about getting the keys to my dorm room. The school told me in no uncertain terms that I must arrive before noon to get my keys. When I landed, I quickly realized that there was no way I would be in Cergy by noon. However, since things had been working out all along the trip, I thought, “Just maybe this is the country where things just work out.” After New York, this concept seemed very foreign, but I think it might be true for France.

I landed and trotted out of the airport with my 250 lbs in tow. Since I had completely neglected to confirm a meeting place with the taxi, I decided I’d have to wander for a while. Then, right there at the exit to the terminal what did I spot immediately, but an ESSEC sign. My taxi mother, Marie-Hélène! I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see a stranger in my whole life. After another nice man from out of the blue helped me load the bag monsters into the taxi, I was on my way. Marie-Hélène told me an heroic story, which I will title, “The Getting of the Keys.” It goes as such:

At first, she tried to send her husband to retrieve the keys from the school before noon. Yay, Marie-Hélène got my keys! Then, she told me of how the school people refused to hand the keys over and also refused to stay a minute past noon. Boo, I don’t have keys. Then, there was something about a phone call to the school. Yay? And how they tried to find me accommodations for the weekend. Hmmmm. But there seemed to be nothing. Uh-oh. Finally, Marie- Hélène concluded. Basically, she forced the school to give her the keys because, as she said, “The lady is coming. What are you going to do for her? Are you just going to leave her stranded?” I guess the school decided it would be easier to risk giving up the keys without my 50E and signed insurance waiver than to fight with Marie-Hélène about how I would have to sleep on the street for two nights. Yay! I have keys!

After stopping by her house to retrieve the trouble-making keys, Marie-Hélène dropped me off at my new home. Just as we arrived, a boy was walking out of the building, and he was fortunate enough to be forced to help me corral my 250 lbs of, by this time, devil baggage into the elevator and up to my room. I would have been too shy to ask for help in French. Fortunately, Marie-Hélène had no problem with it.

Et voilà! I was left alone to deal with the unpacking.

Bonjour, Paris!

Bienvenue! For those of you who I haven’t updated (shame on me for not being in touch!), I decided to go to back to school last October and now I'm off to France to get an MBA in International Luxury Goods Brand Management at ESSEC (École Supérieure des Sciences Économiques et Commerciales). Here I have created a little web site to stay in touch with everyone. It seems a bit bizarre to be writing so much about myself and what I’m doing so I hope you’ll comment and email me often to tell me what you’re doing too.

Getting accepted to school and then getting “accepted” by the French government was hard enough. Obtaining a visa required two unsuccessful visits to the New York French Consulate and a drive down to Atlanta. Apparently, I didn’t register with the secret web site correctly. Conversations went something like this:

You need to have the email confirmation.
What email confirmation?
From Campus France. Did you Register?
Yes.
Did you pay?
Yes? No. Huh? What are you talking about?
You have to pay the money and get the email with the stamp on it.
Okay.
After running to Kinko’s and back. So this is all I have.
That? No, that’s no good.
Then how do I get what you need?
I don’t know.

The second trip back to the consulate wasn’t much different. You see, the thing I didn’t have from the web site that wasn’t clear was the only thing on the list of the 50 necessary things that the consulate actually needed to accept my file. Confusing? Quite. Finally, I went to the Atlanta consulate with the email confirmation in hand and walked out with a visa, which really only gives me permission to complete more paperwork to get a residency card.

To prepare for school, I enrolled in a French class at the Alliance Francaise. I liked to tell people about it because I liked to say “Alliance Francaise” as much as possible. One day when I was telling my friend Farrell about my Alliance Francaise-ness, she said, “You know, you should really just rent a bunch of movies.” To that I replied, “But of course! At the Alliance Francaise, they have a library and I rent two Alliance Francaise movies a week from the Alliance Francaise library. Unfortunately, they are in French and I can only understand about 10% of what’s being said. Thank goodness for subtitles.”

As I sat there being all proud about my Alliance Francaise French movies, Farrell looked at me and said, “No. I meant you should rent movies in English set in Paris.” Brilliant. I started with Funny Face and, I’ll admit, didn’t get much farther because Funny Face was enough for me. Judging from the movies I rented, American movies set in Paris really are much better than, well, French movies set anywhere. My French movies always left me feeling a little despondent without really knowing why. Am I supposed to be happy at the end of Les Parapluies de Cherbourg? Everything was so colorful and there were umbrellas and they sang the whole time. So why do I want to curl up in a ball on cry? Other “films” like Un Deux Trois Soliel just made me think that filmmakers are evil people.

From my diligent film research, I’ve concluded that my life in France will either be beautiful and poetic or destructive, confusing and ending with me dead in a gutter. Since the latter is unacceptable, I’m going to use Audrey and Fred’s musical (hence the title picture) as inspiration to make my life here the former. So I expect that things here will be lovely and harmonious with a few cute miscommunications and strategic conflicts thrown in. Soon I will be singing and dancing around Paris in emerald green and white dresses and no one will even notice because everyone sings and is pleasant and happy all of the time in France.

Of course, I know it won’t be as simple as all that, but I’m still going to hope that one day I, too, will stand romantically on the train platform with my petit chien, both of us surrounded by mysterious smoke. Maybe I’ll be heading down to my place on the Riviera. Most likely, I’ll be heading to work.