in which I complain about a few problems with adjusting to life in Paris...

[Note: I don't think I have ever written a travel blog post in which I've come anything close to wishing for some of the good old American comforts. This is a first for me...]

You’re probably under the impression after reading this and seeing my pictures from the last few weeks that life in Paris is utterly without problems or causes for concern. This is, of course, not true – though I am very grateful for the generally awesome nature of life here! This week, especially because it’s been the first week of class, has upped the stress level a little bit. Here are some imperfect things about life in Paris:

Problem #1: my language skills. There is nothing like sitting through International Bankruptcy Law in French to reinforce the extent to which I have NOT mastered French. That class was particularly challenging because it was 90 degrees outside, meaning that the huge windows were open, and in the courtyard below us there were about 100 students chatting, so it was really difficult to hear the already soft-spoken professor. But let’s not sugar-coat it... I’m not sure how much more I would have understood even if I could have heard everything. It’s bankruptcy law. You can imagine how much I enjoyed my class on the law of global infrastructure projects yesterday, despite the fact that it took place from 7:15-9:15 on FRIDAY NIGHT, simply because the professor spoke English (with a fun French accent).

[Sidenote: my bankruptcy professor walked into class wearing a deep-cut, v-neck, lacy black camisole that covered the essentials but not much above them. Although this was a bit shocking to our modest American sensibilities, she looked great – she paired that shirt with a black skirt and green pumps that matched her green blazer.]

Back to the issue of my French: this is really frustrating for me on a number of levels. First, as a life-long overachiever, I prefer not to get my ass handed to me in academic situations and instead to at least reassure myself that I understand if not actually to participate actively in class. (Now, obviously, law school in any language challenges this – God knows I sat through enough Habeas Corpus classes last year going “...what...?” – but adding a language barrier to that basic level of cluelessness makes things SLIGHTLY harder.) Second, as I mentioned in my very first post, I used to be really, really good at French, and I am still really, really good at Spanish. I am not used to being in a country where I speak at least some of the language and feeling so consistently humbled by the vast gaps in my knowledge. To a certain extent I would feel this way even if I were in Spain rather than France – if you’ve never lived for an extended period of time in a non-English-speaking country, you’re not going to be fluent in that country’s language no matter how much you study – but the last three weeks have been a daily reminder of how much you lose after 10 years of infrequent to practically zero use of a language that you once knew well. And when random other problems arise (see below), not being able to use your native language to try to fix them is really frustrating. For some bizarre reason I still haven’t had anyone automatically switch to English when talking to me; I speak neither with excellent pronunciation nor with any particularly forceful confidence, which to me would both be cues to switch to English... so I guess for that I am somewhat thankful.

The biggest challenge, of course, is forcing myself to use French. I could have learned a lot more Spanish during the summer I studied in Spain had I forced myself to speak Spanish with my American classmates (who did, after all, speak Spanish too). I’ve hung out with a lot of new friends in the past week, and though not all are native English speakers, English is the fallback language. I don’t know if we subconsciously expect to switch to speaking French together at some undetermined point at which we all feel more confident... I’m sure we all like that idea in theory, but in these early days of so much confusion and many things to get used to, it’s such a relief to switch back to English... which at the end of the day makes things more efficient but certainly doesn’t do any favors for our French skills. I also have yet to meet any French people (aside from a couple of friends of friends who have tagged along with us this week). That would be the best way to learn, but the French students in our classes (like us) tend to stick together, and both groups are guilty of not making an effort to approach members of the other. So that is a bit disheartening... I really like all the people I’ve met so far, but I’d like to finish this year with some really good FRENCH friends too!

Enough about my language skills. Problem #2: I still have no bank card. I opened a bank account two weeks ago this coming Monday. That was a relatively painless process except for being told I needed to provide a different electric bill because for some inexplicable reason the one my roommate had given me was insufficient, despite showing 12 months of payment when only three are necessary. (I ended up sending in the past 24 months of electricity payments plus a year of gas payments.) I got a letter last Saturday telling me that I could go pick up my bank card at my convenience, so of course I took the bank at its word and showed up on Monday afternoon to eagerly present this letter and my signed acceptance. Now, let me pause for a moment to talk about how French banks are different from American banks. In the US, you walk into a bank, and you get in line to talk to one of tellers behind the desk, or else you end up in a banker’s office for more complicated things like opening an account or wiring money. That’s not how it is in France. There are five or six different ATMs in the lobby of each bank, and they’re designed to do things that American tellers would normally do – change coins for bills or vice-versa, deposit checks, etc. There is only one live person you can speak to, and he or she runs the show from behind a desk. I am not sure what all these people have the power to do, but the point is that you can’t just walk into the bank and immediately get something done if you need to interact with an actual person. Back to my story: the woman behind this desk on Monday told me that I could not in fact pick up my card; they were still processing the documents for my account, and I should check back on Thursday or Friday. I found this irritating given that I had a letter telling me something to the contrary, but knowing the French love their layers of bureaucracy and still feeling happy and generous of spirit thanks to my past few glorious days in London, I thanked her, smiled, and went on my way. I didn’t even go back on Thursday; I figured, I’ll go on Friday; no need to go on Thursday and be disappointed if it’ll be ready for sure on Friday. After all, Friday was 10 business days after I opened my account. But NO, I went in yesterday, and this time a less friendly man at the desk told me the same story. This time I got angry, and yelled (as best as I could in my French) that I didn’t understand; I’ve had this letter for six days and had been told no once already. What is the point of sending a letter if you cannot in fact get your card?! The man told me, with absolutely zero apology or sympathy, that it was not his problem and that I should call the guy who opened my account and have him tell me when I could actually get my card.

This is all frustrating (almost to the point of tears) because a) this is just so much more difficult than it should have to be and b) I’m running out of cash. I showed up in Europe with a sizable amount of euros, figuring that would last me long enough (and it would have, if I could have had my card on Monday), but it costs money to pull out money from my American account, and Paris is already horrendously expensive! Losing $5 on top of everything else to get money to which I should already have fee-free access in France is just ridiculous. Now you see what I mean about wishing I could deal with this in English...

Which leads to Problem #3: Paris is really f-ing expensive. This isn’t immediately apparent – grocery store prices seem very reasonable; sandwiches and crepes on the street usually cost less than 5 euros  (~$6). But take into account things like this: restaurants and cafes advertising their happy hour specials boast of beer at a special cost of 6 euros... almost $8! That is ONE beer, at HAPPY HOUR, even in non-touristy areas! And the thing with Paris is that there are tons of these sidewalk cafes... but I have yet to sit down at one because they are all so expensive. I would love nothing more than to treat myself to a lunch in the sunshine at my own little table from which I could people-watch, but to do that – to have an actual meal – would cost AT LEAST 20 euros... more than $25! I am a student; that’s just not happening. 

And, finally, Problem #4: my cell phone plan still doesn't do what it's supposed to do. After getting a text telling me I'd already used up my 20 euros of credit (still have no idea how that's possible given that the internet cut off after about 5 minutes total of use) last Sunday, I decided I had better switch to one of the cheap, unlimited plans I'd heard so many people talk about. I signed up with one of those two carriers without any problem; I was even able to retain the number I was already using, and the SIM card came in the mail much sooner than expected. I activated it on Wednesday and learned that my number transfer would occur on September 7 (today), so I waited until this morning to put the SIM card in. Although it connected to a network, my number clearly hasn't transferred yet. I'll give it until tomorrow, but then if I doesn't work, I won't know what to do. This company is all online, so I can't just walk into a store and ask someone. 

Okay, that's enough griping. Thanks for reading if you've made it this far. There is a happier post coming later today!