Bienvenue au Nord

I studied abroad in Paris during the spring of 2014. Now I'm back in France teaching English in the North.

[missfrancypants]

It’s been awhile...

It occurred to me today that as of tomorrow, I will have been in France for a month. So much has happened that I've had a hard time figuring out what to talk about. The following is a list of some of my most interesting observations:

1. In this small town, almost everyone here has a car, so while there is a good bus system, it is not utilized by a huge percentage of the population. Since one of the schools that I work at is on the edge of town, the teachers have been generous with giving me rides to and from school. Many also seem almost surprised that I walk everywhere, but given the size of this town it's not bad at all. 1a. Most of the cars here are smaller than American cars, have manual transmissions, and are not imported from other countries. I already knew all of these things from the last time I was in France but bring them up because it's always interesting to see how different cultures handle these everyday things.

2. I got lucky with my housing. Not as lucky as the 3 language assistants in town who were assigned school-owned housing and only pay 90 euro a month (plus the cost of Internet), but I still did pretty well. The parents of one of the teachers own an apartment building and were therefore willing to rent me a furnished room without a guarantor. As a foreigner who is only going to be in France for a finite amount of time, that's difficult to do. Plus, the rent is only €280 including utilities and Internet. (Some discerning American readers may have noticed that this means I can actually live off of my €794 monthly net income.) Additionally, my apartment is close to the train station, the bus station, a laundromat, a grocery store, the city center, and one of my schools, so I really can't complain.

3. Grocery shopping here is the best. The supermarket nearest to my house sells pre-made fondue, Kinder surprise eggs, and mini flans that are packaged like pudding cups. Plus, I can get wine from respected regions of France for a reasonable price. 3a. Grocery shopping here is simultaneously the worst. French people don't generally care for spicy food, and while the Carrefor Cité in town does have a small international food section that sells things like tortillas and spicy ramen noodles, those items are naturally much more expensive than they would be in the US. 4. The French and American bureaucracies seem to love to come together to form an arbitrarily complicated vortex. In addition to the hiccups I've had making sure I fill out French forms correctly and supply all the additional documents needed, the American government has found ways to make things a bigger pain in the ass. Case in point: my bank account.

In order to get an advance on our pay in October, assistants needed to have opened a French bank account and given a RIB (bank document) and procès-verbal d'installation (form that says we accept our position and understand our duties) to the secrétaire, which needed to arrive in Lille by Monday the 10th. I started opening an account with BNP during the last week of September, but had to schedule a second appointment for Saturday the eigth because, at least according to BNP, the American government required that I fill out a W-9 form and submit it to the bank. No other assistant that I know of had to deal with this, but I liked banking with BNP the last time I was in France, so I was willing to jump through the extra hoops. Plus, I was wise enough to budget for something like this.

5. Everyone at my schools has been really nice so far. Several of the teachers gave me potential housing leads and had none of those worked out, the principal at one of the schools knows people at the municipal government who could have helped me. Everyone is also always asking me if things are going well with my installation and they've also given me insights when I've observed their classes (which is what assistants do for the first 2 weeks of October). 5a. Side note: One of the English teacher has been to my hometown of Des Moines, IA because she has a friend there, and another teacher studied American history and geography a lot in college. He knew the etymology of both Des Moines (which is easy because it's French) and Iowa, and even knew that Iowa and Ohio are different states. What are the odds?

6. The students have been a pleasant surprise. Since I'm working in collège, the equivalent to middle school, I was worried that the students would be exceptionally obnoxious, snarky, and poorly behaved. They're by no means perfect angels, but they definitely seem interested in talking to an American and all the teachers concur that they like me. They're also very witty and I've really enjoyed what interacting I've gotten to do with them so far, especially when they say hi to me outside of class. The best was this weekend I ran into a girl at the open-air market who excitedly introduced me to her mother.

7. The teacher-student dynamic is especially interesting. Students refer to teachers as "madame" and "monsieur", but the teachers are okay with the students calling me by my first name as long as that's okay with me. What was surprising for me is that teachers have to tell students at the beginning of class that it's okay to sit down, and students are expected to stand up whenever an adult enters the room. Teachers here use sarcasm when students step out of line (which, if I remember correctly, is often used with students of this age in the US), and teachers are not all that secretive about students' performances. Several of them told me which classes and students were the strongest and weakest while we were around other students.

8. I'm already sick of hearing the queen's English. Don't get me wrong, I think it makes sense to teach British English in Europe since it's far more useful (and admittedly it is the original), but it's so irritating to hear corridor and pupil and holiday when to me those will always be hallway and student and vacation. Also, I am never going to say out loud that the election is on "November the eighth," as students here required to learn, when it's just as easy to say "November eighth."

9. I really enjoy this town. There's a good amount of history to see, the nightlife isn't too bad given its size, there are plenty of restaurants, the public parks are great, and the Flemish architecture is gorgeous. Plus, the cost of living is pretty low. 9a. Conversly, while the solitude of living alone suits me, being in charge of grocery shopping, cooking, doing the dishes, sweeping, any other necessary cleaning, and laundry is driving me nuts. 

10. The television situation here has been interesting, to say the least. Admittedly I've only watched the cable TV that I pay for once, but it was funny to see Scooby-Doo dubbed into French. I also love watching French music videos. So many of them seem to involve being near a large body of water, for whatever reason. Netflix is also available in France now (it wasn't the last time I was here). There's a good mix of French and American content, but due to international copyright laws (and presumably local tastes and interests) several American shows that I love, such as It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Bob's Burgers aren't available. For whatever reason, Netflix and Hulu totally know it if I try to use Zenmate, so that's definitely limited my options until I figure out a resolution. 10a. I'm in FRANCE, so I should probably leave my apartment and do things anyway.

[missfrancypants]

Pro Tip:

If you wait until after about 1:00 to eat lunch in France, you may notice how nonexistent your options are. Here are a few solutions:

1. Eat lunch before 1:00. This is by far the most feasible solution. The French do not view eating as the private, personal act that it is to Americans. It is subject to a rich cultural tradition. Deciding when to eat lunch is kind of like deciding what kind of tree to decorate for Christmas. Sure, you theoretically have other options, but would it really be right to choose something off the wall?

2. Find a tourist trap. This will be pricey, but if you can find someplace that is close to the Americans, it’s more likely to be open between 2:00 and 7:00.

3. Find a  street vendor selling crepes. Admittedly, this person is more likely to be near a tourist trap, but this person is also more likely to be around between meals

4. Get food from a boulangerie or a grocery store. When all else fails, stuff yourself with bread to stay satiated until the next meal!

5. Look for a kebab place. I don’t know why, but these restaurants have a tendancy to stay open between meal times. I had to find one today at 2:00, and while I felt like a goober for being the only one in there, they were willing to serve me and it was good food.

[missfrancypants]

On Culture Shock

Unfortunately, even in the short and overall enjoyable time that I’ve been in France thus far, culture shock has managed to creep in.

In order to fully appreciate what culture shock is, it’s important to first think about what culture is. To loosely (and badly) paraphrase the multicultural psychology class I took during my junior year of college, culture is the shared customs, values, beliefs, and symbols of a group of people. Culture is food. Culture is language. Culture is music. Culture is fashion. Culture is etiquette. Culture the alphabet and the signs on restroom doors. In sum, culture is all the things we surround ourselves with every day that we don’t even think about.

Culture shock is when all of those things suddenly become effortful. Culture shock is wondering if you’re saying something relevant to the conversation or just babbling because small talk doesn’t exist here. Culture shock is momentarily forgetting how to pronounce the individual letters in your name or the words for the numbers in the year you were born. Culture shock is forgetting that when someone in a store asks for you name they want your last name because strangers refer to each other formally. Culture shock is being unsure if it’s okay to cross the street because you don’t know the traffic laws. It’s trying to figure out what specialized store sells the specific item you need since big box superstores are a rarity here. It’s being afraid to look for an apartment not because you’re still confused about all the laws and taxes surrounding renting but because you’re scared that you’ll ruin your chances when the property owner hears how incompetent you sound on the phone. Culture shock is not understanding why your debit card won’t work on a foreign website, or why your computer thinks the only Internet connection you can access is unsafe. It’s having to look up technical vocabulary before going out to buy anything or in order to tell the man at the front desk that the electrical outlets stopped working in your room.

There’s no real cure for culture shock except time and perseverance, although friendly locals can help to an extent. Trying to ask someone how to exist in their culture is like asking a fish how to swim in water.

[missfrancypants]

Getting acquainted with Cambrai

**Before I mention anything about the past couple days in Cambrai, I just want to mention that the city is GORGEOUS and that the food here has been phenomenal so far. I guess I could post pictures but that’s too much work for now.

Monday started off well but took a turn for the rough. I did some exploring and was pleasantly surprised at how nice everyone in the town is. The lady at the tourism office gave me a good map of the city and a brochure of noteworthy places in the area. The people at the Orange boutique were cordial and set me up with a decently priced phone plan. However, I was irritated that they wanted to speak English with me through the whole process and then threw me out to the wolves to activate my phone (those automated French voices are way hard to understand). I went to a papiterie (I’m pretty sure I fail at spelling this word) and got a French version of The Great Gatsby (what a great way to dive into reading French books). The man behind the counter gave me a loyalty card. My seventh book will be free!

During my exploration, I stumbled upon a kebab restaurant and couldn’t resist. Great food and an opportunity to sit down and get my phone set up? Yes, please. Only, for whatever reason my data didn’t work. After I left the restaurant, the blisters that had been forming on my feet from wearing new boots only got worse, so I walked the 2 miles back to the hotel, figuring I would take a break and get started on the apartment hunt/work on some blog posts before dinner. Only the wifi was hardly functional, so I worked on my blog offline, but then I needed to charge my computer and the outlets weren’t working, so getting that fixed was a debaucle. My feet still weren’t feeling better by dinnertime, so I tried to order a pizza online since the Internet was behaving a bit more (I could have called, but I was sick of making an idiot of myself with my rusty French and the phone is my kryptonite), but my cards wouldn’t work online. When I tried to call the numbers on my cards to make sure I didn’t accidentally freeze them by using them on a foreign website, I discovered I couldn’t because like an idiot I said I didn’t want an international plan. I settled for chips from the vending machine for dinner and vowed to have fun the next day.

Tuesday was an interesting one. After realizing that I didn’t let one of my contact professors know what my phone number was (which was my plan once I got my phone), I texted her and she suggested we meet after school. Not only did we meet after school, I went with her to pick up her kids and ate dinner at her house. She even let me use her computer to continue my apartment search and gave me suggestions on finding housing and had her husband see if he could get the data working on my phone (He couldn’t, so I’ll have to return to the Orange boutique and see if they can figure it out). They were both very friendly and she was very helpful in showing me where some things were around town. I was very nervous about how working with French teachers would be, but it seems like in America where most of them are nice.

Interesting cultural moments of the past couple days:

·         Seeing someone bring a Minitel into the Orange boutique

·         The Betty Boopt-themed diner and the Domino’s next to the train station

·         The Domino’s serves Kebab pizza

·         Watching Lady and the Tramp in French. First off, the French title is La Dame et La Clochard. Also, the bloodhound’s accent is all wrong.

·         The teacher said I could stop by the school anytime even if I’m not working. Um, what? Forgive my Americanness, but I always thought work is where you went to do your job.

The biggest cultural moment of all:

·         I totally fucked my chances of renting an apartment at a specific location. I sent an email to someone on leboncoin (the French equivalent to Craigslist) and that person asked me to call her after 4:30. I had no idea the conversation was going to essentially be done in the style of a job interview. “Why do you want to live here?” can be a loaded question. Since I was caught off-guard, I sounded like an incompetent ass and I may have alluded to the fact that I liked the price, which is basically like saying you want a job for the salary (To be fair, I’ve never had to look for an apartment before, so I was basically oblivious to any etiquette from any culture). Also, I had a hard time comprehending her and she had a hard time comprehending me. Additionally, she wanted to know about my background and why I’m in France. Call me a capitalist, but is there no French equivalent to the phrase “shut up and take my money”? But the biggest roadblocks were that I don’t have a garant (guarantor) or an official piece of paper saying how much I will make a month (my arrêté de nomination only says that I have the job that I say I do), and I would only be renting until the end of April. The lady said I should call back soon with that information, but I don’t think I have a good chance of getting it since she had several other interested parties.

·         Side note: I was taken aback when she asked how much I make a month since the French think money is a filthy topic, but that was the stupidest reaction to have since they have strict laws about rent relative to income.

[missfrancypants]

Getting to Cambrai

It is commonly advised not to bring a lot of luggage on the train in France because you, the passenger, will be solely responsible for lugging it around. While I would concur with this advice as a general rule, I would also add that I didn’t have any real problems. On the first leg of the trip, which took me to Saint Quentin, the cars were divided into compartments, so I was able to stick my big suitcase in front of the window and place my carryon on the overhead rack

Getting off the train, one of my fellow passengers was very nice and helped me with my bags. I was struck not only with his kindness (although I’ve seen other French people do the same thing before) but also with how much the station resembled the Amtrak stations back in Iowa. During the hour and a half I had between trains, I also started to notice how much more casually dressed people were. When I got on the next train (which, incidentally, was newer and more baggage-friendly), we passed rolling hills and farmland. Suddenly it seemed like I was in the French Iowa. I wondered how applicable any of the skills I acquired in Paris will be over the next seven months.

When I finally arrived in Cambrai, things could have gone a lot worse, but they also could have gone a lot better. Due to the size of the town, there were no taxis waiting, and since did not yet have a French phone number, I could not call for one. Since I was used to dealing with cold, overworked Parisians, I decided I would try seeing if could follow the walking directions I printed off from Google Maps (it was only about 2 miles to the hotel). Of course, that didn’t go well, as there was one street I simply could not find (also, people were looking at me like I was a weirdo, which I never had to worry about in Paris where people mind their own damn business), so I decided to try plan b: going back to the train station and asking them to call me a taxi.

To my surprise, the man behind the counter was very pleasant, and when he wasn’t having any initial luck, he handed it off to one of his coworkers. I wound up explaining to him between phone calls that I would be teaching English at two of the middle schools in town and he inquired about where I was from—a conversational direction that was dangerously close to small talk. He informed me that it was difficult to get a taxi for such a short distance and that if he didn’t have any luck calling anyone he could give me a ride to the hotel since the train station closed in a half hour and he would be off work. I know that on paper this sounds extremely sketchy, and as a rule I would say that it is. In fact, every step of my reasoning that it wasn’t sketchy is pretty faulty:

1.       He seemed like a genuinely nice person (of course he didn’t; that’s how sociopaths get what they want).

2.       This was probably my most realistic option (surely I could have insisted that he kept calling different cab companies)

3.       I went back to the cardinal rule of decision-making in a foreign country: Would I do it at home? The answer was potentially, yes. People at small towns in Iowa are known for their kindness and it was something I could imagine someone there offering to do.  Plus, I would be a pretty stupid person to kidnap because there were people in the town who would notice I was missing and it would be pretty easy to figure out that I didn’t go missing until sometime after the first leg of my train trip. (But not everyone who commits a crime is smart)

To summarize, the guy from the train station obviously didn’t turn out to be a creep, but the fact that I got by unscathed doing something once doesn’t mean that it isn’t a dangerous thing to do. The biggest piece of practical advice I can give from this situation is to try not to arrive in small towns on a Sunday, as many businesses are closed. Theoretically, I could have gone to the Orange boutique, bought a phone, and called a taxi myself. The other big takeaway from this is not to be afraid to ask people for things because you never know what you could get.

I was so tired by the time I got to the hotel that I had a fig newton for dinner, contacted my friends and family, and called it a night.

[missfrancypants]

Arrival in Paris

Fortunately, my luggage wasn’t lost, and despite being awake for close to 24 hours, I was super excited to be back in Paris. When I got to the airport hotel I was staying at for the night, I figured I would take a catnap and go into the city for dinner. (I’ve been missing the Vietnamese food in Belleville ever since I left.) Except I woke up at 8:00 and decided that I may as well just eat dinner in the hotel since I wanted to rearrange my suitcases a bit afterwards. The hotel itself was very nice, except every device I own decided that the wifi was unsafe. I just listened to my John Waters audiobook and did some reading instead. I also took a bath, because who knows when I’ll see a bathtub again?

The next day, I had a fantastic breakfast full of all the pastries and espresso I’d been missing so desperately, and by some miracle my phone decided that the wifi was actually okay. The cab ride from the airport to the train station was bittersweet for me, since we went through the Latin Quarter and my old neighborhood by Notre Dame, le Pon Neuf, the Louvre, and Châtelet les Halles. The streets were littered with tourists walking around with smartphones on selfie sticks, just begging to be pickpocketed. When the cab driver honked at and got into an argument with a man on a bicycle, he apologized to me but I told him not to worry. I used to live in Paris, so I understood.

Returning to Paris but not living there was a lot like having residual feelings for an ex and knowing things would never be the same again. Only those feelings were pretty easy to get over once I got to the cacophonous train station, weaving through oblivious tourists and pushy Parisians, guarding my stuff vigilantly against pickpockets. Sitting in the waiting area, it still amazed me how so many people can find so many different things to stare at in the same room. The pigeons were also some of the ballsiest I’d seen in awhile.

[missfrancypants]

Departure

I flew from Des Moines to Minneapolis to Reykjavík to Orly. This wasn’t as bad as it sounded since the Des Moines airport is small and the TSA agents are the friendliest I’ve ever encountered (although they did have to check the sea salt I brought to clean my newest piercing to make sure it wasn’t drugs). The flight from Des Moines to Minneapolis was also only 40 minutes and watching my hometown get smaller in the distance was really liberating.

Minneapolis, on the other hand, was a clusterfuck. If you ever have a layover at this airport, I strongly suggest looking up the layout beforehand. I had to first go to the baggage claim, which is far enough away from the Delta terminal that there’s a tram to get there. Then, I had to go down a floor to take another tram to get to the light rail, which was on a different level as well. Then I had to go up to another level to enter terminal 2 and check both my bags since my carryon was too heavy for Icelandair’s regulations (luckily, it was free to check 2 bags).  Naturally, I was worried that both of my bags would get lost and I would have to walk around France smelling like ass until they got them back to me.  Oh, and the zipper on my purse broke, so that’s now been added to the list of things I have to buy in France.

The flight also didn’t leave until over an hour after it was supposed to, but luckily we made that time up in the air and Reykjavík’s airport is small, so it’s easy to get through after going through passport control. I also got to sit in the aisle directly behind the door on the way there, which made it easier to get a little sleep.

While I was initially resentful that my mom booked me a ticket for Orly (I’ve only ever flown in and out of Charles de Gaulle) it wound up being really nice because I could see the Eiffel Tower and the Tour Montparnasse on the horizon as we landed.

Some words of wisdom about air travel:

·         Dress in layers both to save space in your suitcase and because you never know how warm or cold the plane will be.

·         Wear some of your bulkier items to save suitcase space (for me this meant wearing a pair of combat boots that are the heaviest shoes I own and that have the added bonus of zipping in the back)

·         Dress and pack your bags for the TSA. Make sure to wear things that are easy to get on and off and try to arrange your bags so it’s easy to take out the things you need to, such as liquids and electronic devices.

·         Have a variety of wifi-free entertainment options ready. I try to have a few games on my phone, music downloaded on Spotify, and an audiobook downloaded as well. This way, I never get sick of one thing. Some people like e-books, but I find it difficult to read on planes or in airport waiting areas.

[missfrancypants]

Packing

The week I left for France, I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. There were certain things I needed to have done before going to France. I had to do boring adult stuff like sign HIPAA waivers at my doctors’ offices so my parents could deal with my insurance (I have dual insurances that take forever to pay) and try to start getting things with my student loans in order since my grace period is almost up. There were also more fun things on my checklist like getting my last haircut and going out to restaurants with family members.

I didn’t wind up starting to pack until two nights before my flight and I was a FAILURE at it. Don’t ask me why it was so difficult for me this time around. I was great at it when I studied abroad and I read several TAPIF blogs so I would have a good idea of what to bring. I think I just had too many clothes, which I am willing to justify since I am a size 14-16, and French women have a tendency to be more petite than that. Don’t get me wrong, there definitely are French women my size, but they are fewer and further between. Given how sparse the shopping options can be for women my size in the US, I pre-emptively combatted the issue of finding cute clothes in my size while in Europe by getting a job at Torrid, where I received a 40% discount (side note: I think the location I worked is hiring if anyone is looking for a fun retail experience). Ultimately, I surrendered myself to the idea of my mom sending me a few care packages with my excess clothes.

Here are the few pieces of packing advice that I feel qualified to give:

·         When deciding whether to pack something, research how much it costs in France and consider how important it is to you. For example, I have prescription-controlled acne and the specific brands of facewash and body wash that I have to use in conjuncture with my medications cost considerably more in France, so I decided to buy them in the US and pack them.  However, I’m not as picky about my shampoo, so I decided to just buy something cheap from Dia or someplace similar once I got to France.

·         As far as clothes go, I have to say yes to at least one of the following options before packing something:

o   Does it work in at least 3 outfits?

o   Can I dress it up or down/wear it for multiple occasions?

o   Does it NOT make me look particularly American?

·         Quintuple check to make sure you’re bringing all of the documents you need, plus several photocopies.

·         Get all of your prescription medications before you leave. This will likely mean working with your insurance company well in advance, although not necessarily. For example, my doctor wrote me a prescription for the generic version of a birth control pill so I could afford to pay out of pocket to get all of them at once.

·         Finally, roll up your non-sweater/jacket/denim articles of clothing to save space, stuff things in the shoes you’re putting in your suitcase (use dry shampoo to deodorize the shoes and/or line them with plastic grocery bags, if necessary), and invest in luggage cubes (I was able to find a set of 3 on Amazon for $10). This will make getting things out of your suitcases so much easier, in addition to helping you maximize the space.

[missfrancypants]

Top 10 questions I get about teaching English in France:

1.Who is the program through?

The short answer is that it’s through the French government. It falls under the jurisdiction of a few different subdivisions of the French ministry of education, including the CIEP and the académie where I will be teaching. (Académies are large geographical areas comprising of several cities’ schools.)

2.How did you hear about the program?

My college French professors told me about it. They explained that TAPIF is a great opportunity to go to France after graduating college with a better ratio of applicants to positions than many more well-known programs programs.

3.Where will you be teaching?

I will be in a town of about 30,000 in the Académie de Lille, located in the Nord-Pas-de-Calais region by the Belgian border.

3a. Do you know where you will be living yet?

No one should ever sign a lease without seeing the apartment and the neighborhood first, and it is difficult to correspond with people in another country due to time differences and the cost of international phone calls. Plus, I am one of the lucky few who might have housing provided for them, and it is (supposedly) pretty easy to find housing in any area of France that is not Paris.

4.Do the students wear uniforms?

Given the French government’s commitment to viewing all of its citizens in the same light, it would stand to reason that students in public schools would be expected to wear uniforms, but this is not the case. Something that many Americans do not realize, however, is that religious apparel and symbols are strictly forbidden in any government building because of laïcité (In a nutshell, it’s a version of secularism so stringent it borders on being anti-religious and puts American “separation of Church and state” to shame.).

5.What level of school will you be teaching?

I will be teaching collège, the French equivalent to middle school. My students will be 11-15 years old. It is worth noting that, unlike American students of a similar age, these students have been learning a foreign language since early elementary school, so they will not be débutants in the language, although I may be the first native English speaker many of them have met.

6.What made you want to do this?

I have several reasons.

1.       I miss France. I studied abroad in Paris during my sophomore year of college and I’ve wanted to go back ever since. I also want to explore the non-Paris parts of France.

2.       I want to see how I like being in France with more autonomy than a study abroad program provides. Upon my initial return from Paris, I fantasized about moving to France permanently. It’s time to see how realistic that dream was.

3.       I want to get more teaching experience, as this will likely influence my future career path. I want to get my PhD in psychology, and this may help me decide if I will ultimately want to focus more on research or teaching after I get it.

7.What if you meet a nice guy?

Then I meet a nice guy. Admittedly, I find this question a little condescending (and heteronormative, but that’s beside the point). It seems to speak to an unconscious societal expectation that women will sacrifice anything, including the trajectory of their career and educational aspirations, for love. I would love to know how many men my age who go to France are asked these questions.

8.What if you don’t want to come back to the US?

I won’t really have a choice. I’ll have the option to renew my contract or re-apply to go to a different part of France, but since I would have to pay for my own airfare and save up thousands of dollars in startup costs all over again, this is unlikely. Additionally, it is extremely difficult to get a job in the EU without being a citizen of the EU, and getting a visa to go to France is not easy. Both times I’ve done it, I had to gather several documents and apply in person at the French consulate in Chicago, which is expensive, time-consuming and stressful, despite getting to take a minivacation in one of America’s great cities.

9.How long will you be there?

My contract begins in October and ends in April. I’m arriving in mid-September so I have time to get settled, and I will probably stay a couple weeks after I’m done teaching so I can do more traveling.

10.What are concerned about with regards to this endeavor?

Admittedly, no one has ever asked me that question quite so concisely or eloquently, but almost everyone has asked me a different version of it. Sometimes it seems a little condescending or shortsighted, but others it seems rather empathetic.

Things that worry me:

1.       Setting up my life in France. Upon my arrival, I need to open a French bank account, get a French phone plan, and find housing/renter’s insurance for the duration of my séjour.

2.       The administrative hoops I need to jump through. While the CIEP publishes an immensely helpful annual guide for teaching assistants, there are still a lot of things I have to get done. I’ll need to start the Sécurité Sociale application process almost immediately and have my visa validated by immigration authorities within 3 months of my arrival. Naturally, it will take months to complete both of these paperwork processes. Oh, and did I mention it’s all in French?

3.       Not being prepared for the job. The CIEP provides links to many helpful teaching tools and even recommends materials to bring, but since my role as an assistant will ultimately be to supplement what students are learning in class, I can’t do too much to prepare until I’m there.

4.       Not traveling as much as I would like to. While it certainly is more convenient and affordable to travel in Europe, it is not free and I will only make about 800 euro (roughly 900 dollars) a month after taxes, and despite having saved up a good amount of money, it will largely go to startup costs, such as a down payment on an apartment.

Things that don’t worry me:

1.       Falling victim to terrorism. I say this not to make light of the tragedies that have occurred in France and so many other countries, but because there are so many more probable ways for anyone in this part of the world to die at any time. I cannot reiterate how much I am not saying this to minimize past and future deaths resulting from terrorism, but as a reminder that there are so many prevalent dangers in this part of the world that hardly cause us to bat an eye.

2.       A Taken-type scenario. Once again, I am by no means trying to make light of human trafficking, as it is an extremely serious and prevalent issue occurring right now, all over the world (yes, even in the US). Still, there is something especially insidious about the cultural narrative that promotes the concern that something like this is especially likely to happen to me while I’m working or traveling abroad. Not only does it suggest that women exist in a constant state of weakness and vulnerability, but it also ignores greater dangers faced by women my age, such as an elevated risk of sexual assault, which is most likely to be perpetrated by someone the victim knows. Additionally, this line of thinking ignores that teens and people of color are disproportionately represented among kidnapping victims, and trafficking victims are often coerced by someone with whom they already have some sort of relationship.

[missfrancypants]

A word on acting French, or at least acting Parisian: Dress nicely, preferably in dark colors, walk quickly and deliberately, scowl or look neutral, guarding your handbag and other personal items. If you can read French, take a newspaper with you on the métro. Bonus points if you can read it while maintaining your balance standing up. Above all, just act like you know what you’re doing.

[missfrancypants]

People often say that it’s the little things about Europe that really get to you. I concur. Last Thursday I went out with some NYU students I met at my bénévolat (service-learning). On the way home I accidentally took a train going in the wrong direction, which actually marked the first time I had done that. It would have been difficult for me to pick a less opportune time, since It was almost midnight and some trains stop running at 12:30 during the week, plus there was a 15-minute wait for the next train, which meant it was entirely possible I would get kicked off a couple stops before mine and be forced to figure out how to get home unaccompanied on the streets of a foreign city in the middle of the night The wait was tense. There were plenty of other people around, but I got nervous when two men walked by actively smoking marijuana. I found the best poker face I could and read my French newspaper, thinking to myself “Act casual. Pretend to be Parisian.” Fortunately the train made it to my stop and when I exited I noticed the biggest full moon I had seen in months. It was then that I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I actually saw the moon. I remember the moonlight when my program went to Nice, but I don't recall the actual moon. It’s funny how things that used to be so routine can just fade away.

[missfrancypants]

Many foreign students are scared of Chatelet Les Halles, the world’s largest metro stop. It can take up to fifteen minutes to get from one end to the other and in that time you pass the entrance to a mall, moving sidewalks, the entrances to eight different lines’ platforms, homeless people, potential pickpockets, street performers, and other occasional unexpected surprises, so needless to say it is a bona fide dog and pony show. It is known to be unsavory at night. I went through there drunk at about 11 p.m. on a Friday. I continually thought to myself “Just be cool. Act like a little Fonzie, because what’s Fonzie like? If anyone tries to talk to you it’s for a bad reason, and above all else, act sober.” I have heard horror stories of brawls and dance-offs there at night, so I guess I got lucky.

[missfrancypants]

This weekend two Italian men yelled “Hey, Frenchie!” at me as I walked the perimeter of the courtyard in front of Notre Dame. “Je ne suis pas française, mais merci,” I thought to myself, ignoring it and continuing to stroll quickly with my usual Parisian scowl on my face. It’s not that the women here are really rude, they just need to look like they’re ready to kill you in order to fend off potential predators. That day also seemed to be the day of scruffy blond men playing out-of-tune guitars. I understand the seriousness of the unemployment rate here, but with an act like that they would have found themselves lucky to see the tourists give them money.

My favorite street performer I’ve seen here was also the strangest. I was riding the 7, a line that doesn’t usually see performers since the cars are compartmentalized and not as large as those on the RER. I was in an especially homesick mood when this man wearing a rings with happy meal toys as jewels and a costume with dolls sewn onto it carrying a bag with more dolls and a keyboard entered the car. “Great,” I thought to myself. “A kook.” The man then proceeds to tell a story using the dolls as puppets and a preset function on the keyboard as an accompaniment for his bizarre high-pitched singing. The other people in the car halfway cracked a smile (the equivalent to midwesterners falling over laughing). One man even gave him a euro as he exited the train. I mentally shouted “NO! YOU’RE ENCOURAGING HIM!” but instead I said nothing. My favorite part of the whole occurence was when a performer with an accordian almost boarded the train, but saw the performer and seemed to say to himself “Zut, alors!”

I think part of the reason I do not appreciate people begging and performing on trains is because I know that if they hear me speak they will know I am a foreigner (everyone thinks I’m Parisian until I speak; don’t ask me why) and they will not leave me alone as they will perceive me as an easy target. If a French man tries to talk to me on the street (which means he’s hitting on me) I glare at him so he goes away. Don’t ask me how I became so adept at looking pissed off.

[missfrancypants]

To say I have settled into a bizarre rhythm after 2 months in Paris would not be an understatement. I slather bread in Nutella by morning and read Fitzgerald by night. My body has even adapted to enjoying vegetables and running and I don’t huff and puff quite so much when I climb the five flights of stairs to reach my room. I don’t notice air pollution and I ignore homeless people, I can’t stand the smell of RER B, and don’t get me started on street performers and tourists.

[missfrancypants]

So yeah I didn't actually forget about this blog. I've just spent a lot of time gathering my thoughts.

[missfrancypants]

So I haven't exactly been the best about updating this. Like do you guys seriously want to know every single detail of my life here? Here are things they won't tell you about `Paris in the movies: The metro is dirty. The RER smells bad. Dog shit. You can't see the Eiffel Tower from every point in the city. It's not that easy to befriend French people. It's not usually sunny here. I bought a purse for 10 euros.

[missfrancypants]

Things that apply to my weekend:

Red Wine, the Seine, Pho, Long Island, Margarita

More red wine, potato chips, Sacré Coeur, hot Irish bartender, Irish Car Bomb, 2 pints, Jaeger Bomb, Whiskey, Live music

Chinese New Year

Waking up still drunk

Realizing yesterday was the first day of February

Hangover