Pole Emploi

The reason most people sign up with pole emploi, the unemployment office, is because they are getting chomage, or unemployment benefits, which are only accessible via this government body. Sadly, having a stage (internship) doesn’t qualify one for chomage, and so I didn’t immediately sign up. However recent graduates frequently do register despite the lack of monetary benefits.

While they do have a service that helps one search for jobs, the types of jobs that I’m interested in weren't usually advertised on pole emploi and so I’d been using other services.

Luckily, a friend of mine told me that if I’d sign up at pole emploi to declare myself à la recherche d’emploi (looking for work), I would receive an unemployment card that would give me free access to most of Paris’ lovely museums.

Suddenly dealing with French bureaucracy seemed worth it.

After signing up online, I received an appointment for about two weeks later to go to the pole emploi offices closest to me.

Knowing how these things go thanks to all my trips to the Prefecture, I brought the documents that pole emploi asked for (ID, pay stubs, CV), plus every other sort of document they could possibly need from me (copy of my birth certificate, proof of having graduated from a French institution, etc.).

I also brought along reading material to keep me busy for at least an entire afternoon, and I showed up to my appointment about ten minutes early.

There was a very, very long line for the accueil (welcome desk) for people without an appointment, and a relatively short line for people with one. Arriving at the front of the line right when my appointment was supposed to start, I signed in without a hitch.

I found an empty chair, sat down, and was starting to pull a magazine out of my tote bag, when my name was called to go back and meet my counselor!

Not only were they super prompt, but my counselor was super friendly, didn’t need random documents that weren’t listed on the official documents list, spent time looking over my general CV and cover letter, and despite confirming that they don’t receive many job offers for the work I’m interested in, gave me a lovely packet full of tips for people in my field.


My crumpled up pass that I keep in my wallet for emergency museum visits
She also gave me my get-into-museums-free pass, and I have been using it up a storm.

PDFs and the Prefecture

The process for obtaining the APS visa begins 4 months before the expiration of one’s student visa. After compiling, printing, photocopying, and organizing the various documents required and writing a lettre de motiviation (cover letter), I made my way to the prefecture de police.

After placing the various documents on the counter and saying that I was there to drop off my application for the APS visa, the French man behind the counter said, “On ne prend plus les documents du format papier,” (We no longer accept documents in paper form).

Not being sure I understood correctly, I said, “mais votre site web dit de venir avec tous ces papiers et les déposer à votre bureau” (but your website says to come here with these papers and drop them off at your office).

“Ah oui, mais le site web n’est plus à jour,” (Ah yes, well, the website is no longer up-to-date).

Starting to feel a slight panic, I asked the man what I was supposed to do.

He handed me a printed out regular piece of paper (no fancy French flag header or anything) with instructions telling one to send all the various documents I had just spent good money printing and copying as a PDF to an email address that, I kid you not, was a gmail address. Not @gouv.fr, not @prefecturedepolice.fr, not @france.fr, but @gmail.com!

Trusting the process very little, I still did what I was told.

Fast forward 4 months to the day when my student visa expired and I had my scheduled interview with the prefecture de police to hopefully obtain the APS visa. For this particular meeting, I was supposed to have received a document in the mail from my school, but of course I hadn’t.

I called the school and they told me not to worry, that they’d simply email me a PDF copy of the document that I could then print out and take to the prefecture.

Once at the prefecture, I presented them with my documents where it was immediately remarked upon that the school document was not the “original” copy. After explaining that I hadn’t yet received the school’s document in the mail but that they sent me this PDF version by e-mail, I was told, “on n’accepte plus les formats PDFs,” (we no longer accept pdf versions).

Despite the prefecture de police's policy on PDFs doing a 180 in just four months, I was eventually able to get my APS visa.

Thanksgiving: year six.

Six years of being away from family and other Americans on this very American holiday has made it seem almost the norm. I am once again hosting a Thanksgiving potluck with my French friends (using my tried and true French thanksgiving recipes), and I am once again using this as an opportunity to reflect on all that I am thankful for in my French life.

This year, I am thankful for:

1. The French boyfriend
My constant proofreader, who helps me navigate French bureaucracy, I am so thankful to get to cuddle up next to him on a daily basis. I’m especially thankful this year that he drove my parents to Switzerland and spent an entire day with them sans moi because I had left my passport in Paris… Thank you so much!

2. Amis
As always, I also can’t imagine my French life without all the wonderful people I’ve met out here, from the amazing people I just graduated with to the new friends I’ve made in Paris. From commiserating about the daunting visa process to helping deal with the stress of office life as well as, now, the job-hunting process, I’m so grateful for you all.

3. Graduation
After two years of hard work in the classroom and in the office, I am officially a Master! I am so grateful for the opportunity to have gotten this degree in France with such lovely, wonderful people, and I am also grateful for the fact that my university just happened to be in Champagne as that led to celebrating this milestone with the delicious beverage that shares the region’s name at very reasonable prices.

4. APS
I am so grateful for the visa that allows foreign bearers of a French master’s degree stay in France for one year in order to look for employment in their field of expertise. It’s given me the opportunity to stay here for one more year, hopefully soon find a job, and continue this great adventure.

5. Paris
Living in Paris has led to a plethora of reasons to be grateful. Not only is the city beautiful and full of wonderful museums that I can visit for free on the first Sunday of the month, but it’s also a big tourist destination, which has meant getting to spend time with friends who didn’t think Troyes was worth visiting.


Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Aller au ciné

The price of going to the movies has always been a factor in why I hardly ever go to the movies. Plus, since moving to Paris and no longer being under 26 (the age when Europe no longer considers you jeune), the price I have to pay to go to the movies has exponentially increased, exponentially decreasing my frequency of attendance.

If I do go, however, it’s because I want to see something that is going to be freaking awesome on the big screen. I want explosions. I want magnificent scenery. I want larger than life everything.

Unfortunately in Paris, bigger prices do not equal bigger screens.

On our first trip to the movies, after paying an absurd amount of money for a ticket, the boyfriend and I headed down an endless amount of stairs, and just as I was beginning to suspect we were heading to the center of the earth, when finally we arrived at our salle (room).

The room itself was small. There must have been no more than 50 places, and as such, one would expect the screen to be smaller than say a 200-person room. However, the screen wasn’t even proportional to the room size. It was tiny.


The screen in question. I made sure to include that guy's head for scale.
Suspecting that the problem might have been the fact that we were seeing the movie a while after its release date, I gave Paris the benefit of the doubt and went to the movies again. And again, the screen was miniscule. So much for ever going to the movies!

However, luckily for those of you who wish to see your Hollywood blockbuster on an American sized screen, I do not give up so easily. After visiting several different theaters, I have finally found one that is up to snuff. 

The screen towered high above our heads and was wider than most Parisian buildings. It was even curved, giving the viewer the experience of really being in the movie. The actors were at least three times as big as me. This theater definitely met the criteria for larger than life. 

Check it out:
UGC Ciné Cité La Défense
Le Dôme - Centre commercial Les 4 Temps

Tacos

While most of this blogs chronicles “how weird I think everything French is,” it’s becoming harder and harder to do, as I’ve become steadily more accustomed to life here (five years might do that to a person).

Last weekend, I felt especially comfortable in my little French life. I felt especially Parisian, and it all started off with tacos.

I had given up on ever tasting Mexican food worth eating in France, but then I moved to Paris and had a colleague who was equally desperate for good Mexican food.

After some quick internet research, we decided to go try a little hole-in-the-wall place over by the Canal St. Martin called El Nopal. It was maybe the best decision of my life. The tacos were heavenly, and it wasn’t just my lowered expectations talking.


El Nopal.
Since there is no seating at the restaurant, I (and many others) have made a habit of taking my tacos and beer over to the banks of the Canal St. Martin to bask in the sun’s rays and enjoy the nice view.


Delicious vegetarian tacos.
On this particular visit, after savoring the tacos while engaging in nice conversation, my friends and I walked along the canal and even got to witness a péniche (barge) leveling out the water to make its way up the canal. We stumbled upon a few vide dressing (sort of like pop up second hand stores), and once we made it to the Marais we visited several art galleries.

As evening settled in, we found ourselves on the terrace of a small Parisan café, enjoying glasses of varying varities of French wine.

Before having lived here for so long, I would think eating non-French food would probably be the least Frenchy thing I could do. Even though I already knew that the French eat Mexican food too (the lines outside of El Nopal are a testament to such), it didn't fit into my definition of "French." Now I know better.

I can have my Frenchness, and eat (delicious) tacos too.


Check it out:
El Nopal
3 Rue Eugène Varlin, 75010 Paris

La cantine

My internship has come with many perks. The company is paying for half of my monthly metro pass, there is a small gym with a trainer and group classes available for free (yes, even to us interns), and there are two in house lunch dining options available with very reasonable prices.

Up till now, I have avoided eating at French cantines(dining halls/canteens). My first experience was during my time as a teaching assistant. They didn’t have anything that accommodated vegetarians, and so I would just make myself a sandwich and eat in the teacher’s lounge.

Next up, as a student, the cantine still didn’t have many vegetarian choices, and since I didn’t want to pay €3,50 for a plate of fries and over cooked carrots, I brought leftovers from the previous night’s dinner that I would reheat in the student’s lounge.

But now, as an intern, I eat at the cantine. There are many more options for vegetarians at this cantine, and for that I’m greatful. Plus, they have understood that it is disagreeable to pay the price of a meat meal when you don’t take meat, and charge less for a vegetables-only plate.

All of this is a vast improvement from previous cantine experiences, and I am grateful for cheap eats, especially as everything is expensive in Paris.

That said, I just don’t understand why the French culinary greatness can’t extend to vegetables. It has been my experience that the French think they can just boil a vegetable until its soft, put absolutely no seasoning, herbs, or spices on it, and declare it done.

Normally I love broccoli, carrots, and cauliflower, but every time the cantine serves them they are just lukewarm mush.

After three months, I now know which plates I like and which plates I don’t, and more often than not, the dishes served fall into the don’t category. I’ve gotten pretty good at picking and choosing parts from different dishes to make up a worthwhile plate, but I still think side dishes should be just as important and flavorful as the main attraction.

That's why I put herbes de provence on my hauricots verts(green beans).

1e dimanche du mois

Paris. Despite having spent a semester abroad here, many weeks visiting with my parents, and weekend or day trips visiting with friends, there somehow remains museums and other activities left undone.

While I have enjoyed the freedom of not being obliged to visit 4 museums in one day, or even to “see the sights,” I still want to take advantage of living in the city of light.

That said, things have gotten a lot more expensive in my life recently for two main reasons. First of all, Paris is just darn expensive. Second of all, according to the European Union, I am an old fart.

Paris public museums and monuments are free to residents of the European Union younger than 26 years old, and seeing how I’m now 26, I have to pay my way. Most places don’t even have student-discounted rates. Apparently by 26 years old, you should be done with that whole higher education thing.

Luckily, the city of Paris thinks that everyone should be able to enjoy its many wonderful museums, and so they are made free to the public the first Sunday of every month.

I’ve taken this opportunity to visit some lesser-known museums, including le musée des arts et métiers.

Filled with old timey science apparatuses, cars, planes, construction materials, and communication technologies, this museum is cool.


Science.
It also reinforced the notion of how I am no longer “young,” as it had on display items that were younger than I am (like an iPod).

To top it off, I overheard a young child asking his grandpa, “qu’est-ce que c’est grand père? (what is that, grandpa?)” pointing at a certain item of older technology on display in a glass case.

“ah, ça c’est un magnétoscope pour les VHS (ah, that's a VHS player).” But just stating what it was wasn’t enough. The grandpa had to continue to explain how at one point in time, that was how people watched movies at home.

Nevertheless, it was really cool to see old cars as well as old giant computers, and seeing how much technology has changed over the years made me excited for the future, even if I am "old" now.

Déodorant

Somehow, despite having lived in France for 4 and a half years (admittedly not consecutively), I have avoided up till now purchasing and using French deodorant. And no, I wasn’t just not wearing it! Somehow the deodorants that I’ve brought with me were enough to last.

I use solid deodorant, and I really made my last stick count. I was stabbing the weird plastic-y part at the end with a q-tip to ensure I got every last bit of use out of it. But, one can only put off the inevitable for so long, and so I ventured forth on the search for French deodorant.

Why was I going to such lengths to avoid French deodorant? Well, I have never seen deodorant in a solid form over here. They tend to prefer aerosols where you spray particles under your arms, or liquids.

Granted, I haven't done an extensive search, but as part of my on going quest to integrate into French culture, I decided to branch out.

While I know some of my fellow Americans use liquid deodorant, I never have. So faced with the unknown and my limited number of options, I went for something my compatriots use: liquid deodorant.


I hate it.

It’s wet. It stays wet. It takes eons to dry. If I’m running late and don’t give myself enough time to dry off, the underarms of my clothes get wet.

It’s cold, and I’m already cold in the mornings.

It’s slimy, and after application my underarms remind me more of frog skin than human skin.


My liquid déodorant, aka early morning torture.
I’m just glad I bought a travel size bottle.

However, my travel size solid deodorant lasted me 6 months... Looks like I’ll have to deal with cold, wet, slimy underarms for a while to come yet.

Update: thanks to my awesome readers, I was able to find solid déo!

Stage: le début.

For all my complaining about how unorganized my university is, how uncommunicative the professors and administration are, and how nobody ever seems to know what’s going on, I can at least now say that it has prepared me pretty well for the realities of being an intern in France.

After accepting the offer and settling on a starting date in December, come mid-January I still had no information about how my first day was going to be. This continued until the week before my start date, when I decided that I’d rather know than wait around. I called them to double check the starting date and find out what time I was expected. I then learned that I should be there at 9 in order to attend orientation.

While no further details were given, I was at least grateful to know this little tid bit. Knowing the first day was going to include an orientation calmed my nerves.

While I had them on the phone, I wanted to ask if it would be okay if I took an extra long lunch on Thursday in order to pick up the keys to our new apartment. However, they misunderstood me and thought I said lundi (not jeudi). That’s how I discovered that we were to be lunching with our bosses and other new interns on the first day.

I cleared up the confusion, but was glad that there was some otherwise I'm sure I would’ve been kept in the dark until jour j.

Just like orientation for the master, after my day of learning about the operations of the place, I still felt like I knew how nothing worked. We were not told if there was or wasn’t a strict time to come into the office. We had been told we’d learn how to use their time sheet software, but somehow or other it didn’t happen. I was told my desk would just be temporary, as they hadn’t found a place for me just yet. They then gave me a bunch of papers to read to play catch up on my project, and left me to figure it all out on my own.

Three weeks into it, I am getting the hang of things. I was able to figure out the time sheet situation mostly on my own, and as far as I can tell there are no future plans to change my desk.

I guess France is gonna be France. At least I get to look at this on the walk to the métro every day.


La Défense.

Goodbye Troyes

This Monday I will start my new internship in Paris and say goodbye to Troyes. While the unknowns before me do make this a stressful change, I will not be sad to leave, at least not in the way I was heartbroken to leave Lille.


Timbered houses in Troyes.
Troyes is a beautiful fairy tale miniature city. But whether it was because the university wasn’t actually in the city, or because I was less interested in the cultural opportunities, or because I’m less impressed with (the 9) medieval churches now that they’ve become the norm, I never made Troyes my city in the way that I did with Lille.

I don’t feel at home here like I did in the North. I felt certain that I wanted to get out of Troyes when I did my internship. However, when we walked to the library today to rent some DVDs, I couldn’t help remarking how beautiful this little city is. And how maybe if I’d been less of a homebody, it could’ve felt more mine.

While it’s been fun living in Champagne and drinking bubbly on the cheap (~13€/bottle!), I am ready for a new adventure.

So Goodbye fair city. I will miss the church view from my bedroom window, the small cobblestone streets and timbered houses, and my favorite pizza place. Thank you for a year and a half of discovery, hard work, and not distracting me too much from my studies. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you as well as I should.

Until we meet again.