Pompiers

Like any weekday afternoon when I don’t have class, I was sitting at home in my UCSB sweatshirt and thick, winter tights studying (okay, watching tv), when suddenly there was a knock on my door.

I was surprised and unsure what to do. To get into my building one has to be buzzed in, or have a key, and it was the first time someone knocked on my door without my previously having let them into the building. I’m only on “bonjour” terms with my neighbors, so I was surprised one of them would be knocking.

“Pompiers (firemen)!” a gruff male voice cried from beyond the door.

My fear intensified. Was there a fire? Or some other dangerous activity taking place nearby?

I looked through the peep whole to verify the man was wearing his firefighter uniform, and indeed there was a firefighter outside of my door.

I opened the door, not even bothering to put on pants, when this firefighter explained to me that he was there to sell me a calendar.

“Quoi (what)?” I stood there in disbelief, realizing that I was pantless and there wasn’t any emergency to be had.

“C’est la calendrier des pompiers, vous pouvez l'acheter en donnant autant que vous voulez (It’s the firefighter calendar that we give in exchange for a donation of any amount)."

Now, a new type of stress came over me.

Never having dealt with this type of interaction before, I had no idea how much money would be appropriate to donate. Plus, I’m a poor, starving student and really don’t need a firefighter calendar.

I felt bad just sending him away empty handed, so I got out a 2euro coin. He thanked me, handed me the calendar, and went on his merry way.

And that's how I ended up with a four page calendar featuring all of Troyes' lovely firefighters.


Some of the region's firefighters.
Source: Mairie Creney

Summer Ice

I’ve always wanted to see a glacier while there still are glaciers. Luckily for me, France is known for its glaciers at Mont Blanc.

The boyfriend's parents live a measly two and half hour drive away, and so we decided to take a trip up to see one of the world’s most famous glaciers, la Mer de Glace (the name translates to: a sea of ice).

If you haven’t heard of it, don’t feel bad, as I hadn’t either. All I knew about glaciers is that they are big, made up of blue ice, and stay frozen all year round. But after I was told about its grandeur by monsieur pommettes, I couldn’t wait.

After the drive, it’s a twenty minute train ride up a very very steep mountain, with an arrival directly at a platform overlooking the glacier. But to my eyes, there were no glaciers nearby. Only dirt.


La Mer du Glace.

Still, I could see glaciers that were at the far end of the mountain, and even that was pretty cool. Disappointed that we were so far from the Mer de Glace, I started listening to the guide.

Turns out, that pile of dirt actually is a glacier! In the past, the glacier was able to remove debris that landed on it. Nowadays that doesn’t happen.


Sometimes glaciers wear camouflage.
Despite its appearance of a dirt valley, we decided to make the climb down to see it closer up. There was supposed to be a nice view from a grotto.

Climbing down the mountainside, and then down 400 metallic steps attached to the cliff, we were there. Only, this wasn’t some rock alcove; it was a cave carved out of the glacier. We literally got to walk inside of a glacier.


Me in a glacier!
And the ice was bluer than I imagined.

C'est Trash

Most of the time, when people (myself included) talk about things they love about France they bring up baguettes, cheese, wine, the language, the architecture… stuff that is pretty classy.

But that’s not all there is to France. She's got another side, a trashier side, and, well, I love it too!

Here are four trashier aspects of French culture that I can't get enough of:

1. “Les Ch’tis à ___________”
One of my favorite French TV shows is a reality TV series that follows a group of young people from the North as they travel to new places. So far, they’ve made it to Ibiza, Mykonos, and Las Vegas to name a few. It’s basically like a French version of the Real World. There is roommate drama, hook-ups, and they are supposed to be finding jobs. It’s pretty low class TV, but I can’t wait for the next season. End of August!


Les Ch'tis à Las Vegas.
2. La Vache Qui Tache
While drinking games exist everywhere, it isn’t exactly a classy activity. In France, it gets even less classy beause they play a drinking game where you are literally marked up with soot as you loose.

La vache qui tache is a drinking game using a tongue twister, and if you mess it up, you earn a "tache” (or stain, which is also the same word for spot, as in a spotted cow, hence the fun playonwords).

Voilà the phrase:


“Je suis la vache qui tache numero ______ avec _____ tache(s), et j’appelle la vache qui tache avec ______ tache(s) numero ________.“
(I am the cow number ____ with ____ stains, and I pick the "spotted/stained" cow with ______stains number________.)
It doesn't really translate all that well.
Good luck saying that after a couple of beers (and numerous facial markings).

3. BB Brunes
People often ask me if I like French music, and in truth I feel like I can’t answer that question because French music encompasses almost all music genres. While I do enjoy listening to Edith Piaf and feeling classy, since moving here I've realized she's not all France has to offer. I have discovered some French pop bands, including my new favorite: BB Brunes. They are popular amoung 12 year olds, and are similar to those good ol’ American boy bands (except they actually do play instruments). I love the cheesy pop music and love songs.


BB Brunes. So dreamy!
My favorite song by them right now is called Afecionado, if you want to give 'em a try.
4. L’amour est dans le pré
Another reality TV show, this time showing various farmers all over France looking for true love. They do so by being interviewed, then people mail them letters, then they select from the letters people to do speed dating with, then from those people they choose two to visit them. The farmers themselves tend to be pretty interesting characters. They are from way out in the country, which leads to some impossible accents.

--------------------------------------------
France turns out to be a pretty well rounded gal. There's a lot more going for her than just being hoity-toity. While I certainly love the classier aspects of France, like drinking champagne while listening to Edith Piaf and eating macarons, I also love that I can get an order of fries and watch crappy reality TV and still be experiencing French culture.

Vive la France!

Looking Back: The First Year of My Masters

The first day of school, where we were made to act silly and then sit through orientation presentations all day long, feels like ages ago. The buildings were unfamiliar, and despite being oriented all day long I left feeling like I didn’t know how to do anything any better than I did when I woke up that morning.

A week after taking spring semester finals, I returned to campus in order to drop off my registration packet for next year. The school seemed so small. I knew all its nooks and crannies. And while I had to figure out much of it all on my own (or with help from my fellow students), I now knew how to print documents, use the wifi, and recharge my student card.


La fac (school).
Source: l'aubeserveur
School in France wasn’t exactly what I thought it would be. I was disappointed, pleasantly surprised, mega stressed, had a lot of fun with good people, and learned some stuff. Overall a good year.

I think a major factor in my disappointment stems from the differences between high context and low context cultures.

Low context cultures are cultures where communication is in explicit codes like words, and rules and expectations are explicitly explained such as in America and New Zealand.

High context cultures are when communication is in physical gestures instead of words, and relies heavily on context such as in Japan and Saudi Arabia (thanks intercultural communication class!).

France is somewhat in between high and low. While they do use words, they leave enough unsaid to where I felt under-communicated with by my professors. My first shock came when nobody handed out a syllabus, and that sort of indirect communication continued on all year.

I had a really hard time being graded and judged negatively on things the professors never told us about. For example, not telling us it’s required to have page numbers on our presentation, or that we’re not allowed to use animations, and then marking us down for it.

This wouldn’t be so bad if there were some underlying rules for all of the school, but a lot of it came down to the personal preferences of the professors, and it was difficult for me to accept losing points for something nobody told me about in the first place.

But even with this cultural difference, I was able to learn new things, meet new people, improve my French, and pass all my classes with flying colors.

I’m really proud of what I’ve accomplished so far, and despite it being a challenge, super stressful, and at times exceedingly frustrating, I’m really glad I decided to go back to school and go back to France.

I'd like to say that next semester I'll be better prepared for the lack of direct communication coming my way, but I'm not sure I was more accepting of it Spring semester as opposed to Fall.

Sometimes a girl just needs page margins and font size defined before writing a paper.

How to Find an Apartment in France (Or At least How I Did)

I have now successfully found housing all on my own three times in France, and am currently working on getting apartment number 4!

I completely understand that this is an area of stress for many people moving abroad, whether as an assistant, on study abroad, or just because. While I am far from an expert, here’s what I’ve learned:

Finding roommates is really difficult in France.
Both years I spent as an assistant in Lille I tried to find roommates, and was unsuccessful. I originally wanted roommates because the thought of living by myself for the first time ever in a country where I barely spoke the language and knew nobody wasn’t very appealing.

However, some other assistants that I know were able to find roommates. They used the website appartager.fr, which is like a roommate searching site. It's not the best because you have to pay to be able to access a lot of the contact info.

I gave up trying to find roommates after about a month and a half of searching. I got myself a nice little studio, and I loved it!

Leboncoin.fr
The website that I’ve used the most often and had success with is leboncoin.fr. It is similar to craigslist back home. Every single apartment I have rented in France has been from this website.

In order to use the website, click the area of the map that corresponds with where you are in France. Then in the first drop down menu, select “location” for apartments, or “collocation” for roommates. Then it’s possible to make the search more precise, with options like highest rent/lowest rent, number of rooms, furnished, etc.

Rental Agencies
There are numerous rental agencies all over France. Some even place ads on the leboncoin (it says professionel). With them, just be prepared to pay them the equivalent of the 1st month's rent (if not more) after they find an apartment you like.

CROUS and Foyers
Another possibility would be to live in a dorm like situation. CROUS is France's version of student housing. I tried to get housing with them when I came over here to do my masters, but the registration for student housing is in April, and I didn’t even know I was accepted until June. I was unable to get student housing, but am quite glad actually! I love living in the city center and having my own apartment.

There are also foyers, which are like really tiny studios, but usually come with a shower, toilet, and kitchenette - meaning stove tops and a mini fridge. Some foyers have rules (one assistant wasn't allowed to have over night visitors, or boys in the foyer after 10 - it was an all girl foyer), but some are chill.

Play It Safe
On a quick safety note, I wouldn't accept living somewhere until you actually see it. I've seen some pretty scary apartments that seemed good on leboncoin. Also be aware of fake ads trying to take your money, etc.

If I Can Do It, You Can Too!
I've lived in France for three and a half years in three different apartments in two cities, and it's all been an adventure. Good luck on finding housing in France!

Les Couverts

Meeting the parents of a significant other is always stressful, but I was adding in cultural differences, language barriers, a weeklong stay, and being a vegetarian in a very meat-based culture.

Trying to make a good impression during one of the first dinners with the parents, monsieur pommettes brought up a culture factoid I had previously shared with him.

“In America, they hold their forks and knives differently, and use their knives a lot less!” my French boyfriend told his parents.

I immediately panicked.

While true that in America we switch the fork holding hand before eating and in France they tend not to, and the French certainly use their knives much more like a tool than in the good ol’ States, I was fearful of what sort of image that statement would evoke.

Would they think all Americans are knife-less barbarians that only eat with their hands?

His mother’s instant reply was, “Well, she certainly uses her knife better than you do.”

I secretly preened. Having spent 3 years observing and mimicking French table manors in a never-ending effort to be more French, I couldn’t be happier my efforts were paying off. Nevertheless, M.P. did have it right – table manors are not the same on our two continents.

“Merci, but I learned how to do this while living in France,” I explained. I then told them about the differences between American and Continental dining etiquette I’ve observed over the years, all the way down to using bread to soak up sauces, or using a spoon to eat cake.


An illustration of American vs. Continental fork use.
Source: Châine des Rotisseurs
While for the most part I now use continental style (i.e. I don’t switch my fork hand after cutting), every now and then I notice that I’ve made the switch without meaning to. My American dining etiquette remains a part of me, especially since I still prefer to eat my dessert with a fork.

Se Perdre

We were warned about the difficulty of locating the greatest beer in the world before we went on our quest, and yet we didn’t fully realize the legitimacy of such claims.

It wasn’t until after we crossed the Belgian border (granted that only took about twenty minutes) that we realized we had forgotten to look up the actual address of the monastery.

No matter, we thought, we knew which city it was in. We put “Westvelteren” into the GPS, and found a street with the same name of the Abbey, “St. Sixtus.”

The GPS lead us to a residential street. Knowing that the abbey is located in the middle of fields, we decided to follow a sign indicating “Westvelteren” as well as fields.

We quickly found ourselves driving along a dirt pathway in the middle of nowhere, with no street signs, and no abbey in sight, very lost.

Luckily, a friend was supposed to meet us at the monestary. We gave him a call to ask him for the address, but as a regular he didn't know. Deciding to wait for him to look it up, we drove to the nearest town, Poperinge, which ended up being very charming with Flandres style architecture.


Poperinge, Belgium town center.
Originally we had planned on having a late-ish lunch comprised of the bread and cheese also made by the monks, but as it was fast approaching 15h and not knowing if we'd ever make it to the beer holy land, we decided to find a snack.

What better to tide us over than some fresh Belgian fries? Unfortunately, all the restaurants and fry stands were closed except one, however they only spoke flamand(Belgian Dutch). After asking them if they served fries, they replied in a broken English that nobody served fries at this hour.

It wasn't a complete waste of time, however. Thanks to a display, we learned that 80% of Belgian hops are grown in Poperinge. An appropriate stop indeed.

Not to worry, we ended up getting the address, tasting delicious cheese, and enjoying the best beer in the world. And yes, it lived up to it’s name.


Westvleteren Bruin 12 and abbey-made cheese.
But if you ever visit it, make sure to have the address.

Check it out:
"In de Vrede"
Donkerstraat 13
8640 WESTVLETEREN
Tel. 057/40.03.77

La Bise à la Fac

In my old French life, I had the ever so mysterious bise (the traditional French greeting, a.k.a. cheek kissing) down pat.

With my boyfriends family? Yes! When meeting up with friends? Yes! When leaving friends? Yes!


Source: this great video about how to faire la bise, which I already translated.
I have discovered that school is a whole other ball game.

There are 7 of us in my masters program, and we see each other pretty much everyday. Even among our small, close-knit group, things can get a bit complicated.

Do we faire la bise every morning upon first seeing one another? No. But enough of the time to make it complicated? Yes.

For example, if we get to class early enough, we usually faire la bise, but if someone comes into class ten minutes late and is addressed after the class, a bise suddenly becomes optional. Sometimes for no apparent reason that I can tell the bise becomes optional.

Some of my classmates seem to be more pro-bise than others. While this doesn’t cause a problem per se as I now know who will and who wont demand a bise, I find it interesting that some of them are more adamant about it than others.


Source: the video.
Where it starts to get really complicated, however, is the casual crossing of paths. Sometimes, it is acceptable to simply wave. Other times, one is expected to stop and make time for a quick bise and a "ça va?”(how's it going?) before continuing on to one's destination.

To make matters worse, in my experience before la fac (university), a bise was always done upon first interaction, and never again afterwards. Here, even if I've already seen someone and said a casual "salut" (hello), a bise is still on the table for future greetings.

But again, the bise may or may not happen. It depends. On what? I couldn't tell you.

I'm winging it pretty much all the time.

Getting Around France: Trains vs. Cars

For spring break I decided to head up north to my old haunting grounds, Lille. I wanted to see my friends and eat delicious French fries.


Who wouldn't want to visit this?
The problem with going anywhere from Troyes is two-fold. The first problem is that Troyes is not on the TGV (trains de grandes vitesses, or high speed trains). The second problem is that, by train, one must always go to Paris first, and then to the subsequent destination.

In between Troyes and Paris there are roughly 180 km/111 miles. In between Paris and Lille there are 220 km/136 miles.

However, the train ride from Troyes to Paris is about 1 hour and 30 minutes, while the train from Paris to Lille is about 1 hour and 15 minutes.


Image ©Google Maps.
Despite traveling farther, it’s actually quicker to get to Lille thanks to the TGV.

Taking into account lay over time, getting my butt up North by train was looking like at least a 4 hour ordeal. It was also looking quite pricey.

Luckily, the train is not the only way to get around France. I did something I have never done before. I signed up for covoiturage.fr, a carpooling website.



Image ©Bla Bla Car.
I highly recommend it to my fellow travelers out to explore France. It was cheaper than the train, and got me to Lille faster (only 3.5 hours by car). My driver was on time, very friendly, and we had a very agreeable voyage (journey). We didn't even have to pass through Paris!


The point of zero kilometers (where the roads from Paris are measured from) sits in front of Notre Dame Cathedrale in Paris.
It would seem that all roads no longer go from Paris, but instead all trains do.

Dictionnaire Español-Français

For my masters, it is required to take a language class and this semester I decided to enroll in Spanish. Having had 4 years of Spanish in middle school/high school, I figured it’d be easier and serve me better than say Portuguese or Italian.

Learning a third language in one’s second language makes for some pretty interesting brain gymnastics. Nevertheless, I sometimes find that translating things into French makes more sense than the English equivalent (and vise versa).

While hoping there would be a Spanish-English dictionary at France's version of Good Will, Emmaus, there were only Spanish-French ones (but really, at a dollar a dictionary who can complain?). I bought one, confident that I speak French well enough that there shouldn’t be any trouble.

Despite it working out most of the time, looking up I no longer remember what, I stumbled upon the cutest word I have yet to cross in French, pommettes. Not sure what it meant, I asked a classmate.

So, what is a pommette? No, it’s not just a tiny pomme (apple). It’s actually the cheekbone part of your cheeks! The little part that grandmas like to pinch when they tell you they could eat you with a spoon.

I love having a word for that specific part of the cheek. Especially since it seems to fit perfectly. It does resemble a tiny apple one just wants to take a bite out of.

Confession: I'm dating a French boy. Since we met, I always adored his cheeks, but telling him so didn't exactly encompass what I meant. Really, I couldn't get enough of his pommettes. After learning this word, everything just fell into place. It felt right.

Now, my favorite part of Spanish class is enriching my French vocabulary.