First Impressions

18/19 Septembre 2007

I arrived in Paris yesterday morning at the crack of dawn. I saw this as somewhat ironic: Here I am, arriving in a new country, starting a new life. It’s almost like the cyclical movements of life: time, days, months, years, rebirth…renaissance as the French call it. I’ve started my journal today because there is no way I could have written my first entry yesterday. I barely slept at home, wanting to enjoy my last few moments of comfort, safety and serenity. I did sleep some during my flight to Philadelphia, but those who know me well will know that didn’t sleep at all on my flight to Paris. The second plane was huge!!! and for the most part quiet. I watched some movie (300 and Shrek the Third) and some TV (Food Network and E!) during my flight. The best part, however, was talking to my flight neighbor, Judi. A political science student at the Sorbonne, she was in PA visiting une amie who also studies politics at Penn. I think she was taken aback initially from my asking her if she was French, but…once I started talking to her about France and Paris as well as her opinion of the best places to go visit or eat at, she became very talkative. She guided me through the Charles de Gaulle airport, through Passport controls and picking up luggage. Fortunately, I didn’t have to go through customs and to top it off, Morgane’s parents were right up front with their sign, looking for me. J What a sigh of relief their presence was… I couldn’t believe that they wouldn’t come and get me, but I was so afraid and intimidated by everything, that my worse fears kept haunting me until a resolution of some kind was made.

Morgane’s parents and I were able to get out of the airport (and the nearby vicinity) pretty easily. There was some traffic…after all, Paris is notorious for having many traffic jams (embouteillages). Throughout the drive, we spoke on many subjects and I was surprised at how quickly I caught on. I had to ask them a couple of time to repeat what they said as well as how to say something in French, but all in all, it wasn’t as difficult as I thought. They even complemented me on my French, saying they thought I’d improved since their visit to the States back in May. During the drive, I saw a quick glimpse of the Eiffel Tower. It was so fast that I didn’t even have time to take a picture. L I also learned something else about French driving; motorcycles are quite popular here. The drivers weave in and out of traffic, regardless of lines, at top speeds. It’s no surprise that there are lots of accidents. Once we got into Vincennes (pronounced van-sen for those English speakers that I love), we attempted to go to lycée (high school) Hector Berlioz so I could meet with Céline Barré, the English professeur with whom I was going to work. We were an hour early, so M. Jaunay parked the car on the street and I borrowed his portable (cell phone) to call Céline. I had to be careful where I walked, because as we learn in French class, there was dog poop scattered along the sidewalk. To make the moment even more special, an old man parked his car a few car spots up from us and proceeded to pee on the sidewalk. Welcome to France. Of course, I had to ask Morgane’s parents if this was normal French behavior. They laughed and assured me that the French usually use a WC (water closet = room with toilet only).

After some confusion of location by Céline, we eventually meet up and moved the car closer to the school. She welcomed me with open arms and a cheery smile. She’s a young professeur with an almost British accent when she speaks English with me. We deposited my bags with the Contrôleur (doorman) of the school and proceeded to get the keys to my apartment. After being paroled around the school and introduced to lots of teachers, I met Serge, an older man who is responsible for renting the rooms in the apartment building where I was going to live. It also happened that he is my neighbor, as we are the only two on the same floor. But before, I could move in, the Proviseur (principal) wanted to meet me. It all happened so quickly; he was occupied, so I was rushed to meet the assistant principal and then moved into the principal’s office. I could tell from the reaction of the faces of Céline, Serge and a Spanish professeur who joined us, that they were not big fans of the Proviseur. Later, Céline confided in me that he is fairly new to the job; an older man, who seems to change his mind often or just has a tendency to forget what he says. He was slightly upset that I was taken to see Serge to get my keys before meeting me. (Céline mocked him later, saying that getting the keys to my lodging was more important than meeting him first off; “You are not going to sleep on him,” she said.) J The only thing that frustrated me with being at the school was that when we went back to collect my baggage, it looked like someone had opened my backpack. I can’t account for anything being taken, but already being a stranger in a strange land makes me feel weary. I don’t want my boundaries to be already tested after just arriving!

My apartment building is right behind the school based on its location. Apparently, many of the school employees (aka administration) live here as well. The Proviseur and the assistant-proviseur live in the apartments on the top two floors and so-on down to the bottom of the building. I live on the 2eme étage (or third floor in the US). There is a super small elevator, which we used to transport only my luggage up to my floor. J My apartment is small and kind of dirty, but comfortable. I took the largest bedroom, since I was first. (I’m getting a roommate from Costa Rica, the new Spanish assistant. I think his name is Miguel.) It faces the street, which is full of traffic and trees. Once the leaves fall, I’ll be able to see more goings on. The wall along the street has large windows that have blinds and even doors to open them. My bed is small and hard on my back; I hope to get a featherbed mattress cover or something like it to give myself a little more comfort.

After setting up “house”, Céline took me to a nearby supermarché (supermarket) to buy some essentials to keep me nourished. My first French meal consisted of good artisan bread with goat cheese and chicken, some Lays potato chips and red raspberries. Since then, I’ve gotten little things that the apartment needs, like hand and dish soap. I can even find Diet Coke (known here as Coca Light) with Lemon, something I being able to purchase at home. The market is interesting. The first time I went with Céline, no one paid attention to me. My second time going I noticed a man who kept following me throughout the store and it kind of freaked me out. When I was looking at my options for dish soap, he said bonjour as he passed. I answered him back and continued looking at the items on the shelf. He asked me if I was American and of course, I told him yes. Amazing how they can tell us apart from others… He offered his assistance should I need any help. I thanked him without making eye contact and he smiled and left me alone. The French love it when we frown at them or seem to not care. It’s when you smile and seem friendly that they can become rude. I do my best to fit in without losing too much of myself.

Today, I went to the school a little late because it is the only place I can use the Internet and they only have one computer! I’m having problems with my Blackberry and I’m frustrated because it seems my lifeline back to the US. I was a little shocked on my way there, because I ran into three young adults just outside the school gates who were smoking pot in the street! I noticed that there weren’t many people present at the school, but I continued to enter the building. The problem is the school closes early on Wednesdays and I was coming just before closing! On my way into the school, I ran into the Contrôleur and he looked shocked to see me. I asked him about using the Internet and he told me that the school closed early on Wednesdays. I think that he could tell that I was in desperate need of getting to the computer, so he was willing to give me trente (or 30 mins) to complete my needs. I felt bad (especially for not knowing the closing times of the school), so I told him I would only take 15 mins. Instead, he offered that I could stay until he locked up everything else in the school. Amazing how the French are so full of contradictions: order and chaos. Almost like the bike riders on the highway. Make the rules up as you play along.

I admit that I went to the school late because I slept in late. I kept waking up my first night and to try and help coax myself asleep, I watched a couple of movies. I’m going to try to adjust my sleeping habits so I don’t feel so much on US time. After going to the school, I took some money (for my second market trip) and my camera to do some sightseeing. About 15 mins of a walk from my apartment, the Chateau de Vincennes is located in the middle of the town. It’s a beautifully decrepit building with its own church and donjon, a large tower used as a symbol of power and strength. This landmark is one of the oldest in France because it has survived since the Middle Ages (around 1300s). This year marks a celebration of the chateau and there are many festivals going on in town. Since most take place during the weekend, there wasn’t much activity going on, so I decided to take some pictures and explore myself. There are tours given of the Chateau and I plan to take one eventually. While walking along the sidewalk, I noticed many people walking their dogs on the grass when there are plenty of signs asking people to stay off. This also happened when I was within the chateau, but the older couple looked so cute playing their guitars and signing, how can one say anything? Again, the French and their contradictions.

Another sight for sore eyes, a man (maybe homeless) gleaning through the trashcan, maybe for food, maybe for things he can use or sell. To me, it looked like he took a screw lid off a plastic bottle. And amazing enough, it didn’t bother me, unlike most people I know who would be disgusted by this act. I’m sure the word to glean my not be in everyone’s vocabulary, but in my French film class, I watch a movie called Les Glaneurs et la glaneuses, in which Varda (a French filmmaker) documents the history and impact that gleaning, the art of taking things after they have been discarded, has had on the French, both now and in the past. The title means “The gleaners and I” but in real translation, it is meant to reflect the gleaners but also that Varda is a gleaner herself, capturing images and even some items, like those she photographs. Isn’t it amazing how education can help explain a culture?

I’m sure that some of you want to know when I’m going to get to Paris. Until I learn the metro system better (and I have a cell phone that works), I’m not venturing into the city alone for a while. Céline has agreed to take me into town sometime this weekend. I’m hoping that by the end of this week a few other things will happen for me.
1. Get my Blackberry working!!!!
2. Get my emploi de temps (schedule) for classes.
3. Maybe get Internet in my apartment? PLEASE

Wish me luck! The American in Paris is making her way, slowly but surely...

Some pictures of my apartment in Vincennes will come in a later blog. :)