Marie in France pt. 4

Strasbourg, September 17

I should be studying right now, but I’m compelled to add some more notes to my journal, especially since it’s so easy to forget one’s activities after a few days.

Friday I showed up for the last class of the week, according to the guide pedagogique emploi du temps, and found two others of our little quartet waiting for the instructor of Seminaire Pratiques d’ecriture[MS1] : traductions adaptations, Lea and Julie, both francaises.  Fifteen minutes later,  I was not at all surprised that she still hadn’t appeared. So off we went again to HQ, slowly traversing the corridor, checking all the panneaux for some sort of communication as to why the class did not take place.  After some time we found a message stating that the class was in session for three hours for each of four days (12 hours total).  But the days were not indicated.  This was supposedly a “trasversaux” or “sem-transversaux” class involving other disciplines. Lea, the most self-assertive of our little group, considered it scandaleux that evidently the other disciplines were notified of the days but ours was not.  We both sent an email to the instructress at the generic email address, with copies to each other. I politely, but pointedly, asked her what in blazes was going on.  Lea’s message was a little more pointed.   As of today I have not had a reply, I will have to ask Lea if she replied to her email.  The following Monday we were assembled for our afternoon class with our director, who hadn’t a clue as to the schedule of Mme-la-prof.  Fortunately one of the second year students, obviously more in touch with the faculty, had the dates. It turns out all my Fridays are free until November 8.  

I suspect this is more for the benefit of the instructors than the students.

Saturday morning I checked out a place which the beauteous Audrey had set up for me.  It was depressing.  Enough said.  This was followed by a trip to Place Kleber for books and supplies.  Returning to the Rue du bon Pasteur, I exercised for the first time since leaving San Francisco, running in the Parc de l’Orangerie which is quite nearby. Sunday, with the help of my Mme. Cazenave, Airbnb hostess I checked out apartment rentals, saw one, not bad but which would not work, no kitchen equipee (stove, oven, sink, etc). But I did get an appointment for Monday evening for an apartment very nearby, which would  be perfect.

Monday my first class was an elective, Arabic, writing and speaking. I’ve always wanted to study Arabic, and I think I can do OK with the speaking, but the writing?  Wow.  Regardless,  I picked up the text at Place Kleber.

The transportation system in Strasbourg is very interesting.  When boarding the trams you buy a ticket at the individual stations, then you validate them at a machine nearby.  Or, if you start on a bus, you can buy the ticket (1.60 euros one way or double that for a round trip), and you validate the ticket on the bus. You can make a connection between bus/tram or vice versa, but it has to be within an hour.  At every place you board you have to validate your ticket.  I was told the system was strictly regulated, a fact I found hard to understand since it seemed that you could board a tram with ease without paying, there was nothing to stop you.  Regardless, being a law-abiding individual, I followed the rules.  On the return from Place Kleber I learned differently. For the first time I saw a ticket agent, who I guess boards the trams at random times.  He checked everyone’s ticket, including mine, which of course was perfectly validated.  Don’t know what would have happened had I not had a valid ticket, maybe I would  be writing this journal from my jail cell.

Monday afternoon my class was “Theatralites”. The subject matter is as vague as the title, and cynic that I am, I suspect that it’s an invention of the faculty to plump up the program.  But it’s going to be an important part of the program, so I better get with it.

Headed for 22 Rue de Johann Sebastian Bach to see the apartment.  Yes it’s perfect, but I was semi-candid in advising the bailleur (landlord) how long I was going to stay, definitely a point not in my favor. He had a couple of other people who were interested, and I will know tomorrow.  Today I sent him an email offering some little incentives which hopefully will put me in a better light.

Tuesday morning there was a presentation on Cervantes, in Spanish,  by a Spanish professor and author, Senor Galicio, very interesting, even though I probably understood only about 70%. In the afternoon I had my Spanish lit class – plays of the Siglo de Oro – more theater. But I did find out that my copy of Don Juan was probably not going to work optimally, and that there was a third bookstore at Place Kleber at the Aubette, a sort of upscale galleria, where I would probably find a more informative edition – this from a student, as it seems a universal law that no faculty member is a source of any practical information.

Mme. Cazenave, my Airbnb hostess is working on a certificate in speech therapy. She was married to a physicist who worked not only at the University, but also in China, England, the US and elsewhere, and she is fairly knowledgeable about the university system in France.  She tells me that on dit (they say) that the professors of non-scientific studies are much less serious than the professors of scientific studies.  I don’t doubt it.

Our group at Rue du Bon Pasteur has expanded to four, with the arrival of Sabrina, a charming flamande, who is in Strasbourg on some sort of teaching internship.  Laure (francaise) is studying biology at a 2 year vocational institution, which sounds pretty rigorous from what she tells me.  The two of them are probably similar in age.  My hostess, a mature, experienced mother and grandmother, is still young enough to be my daughter.  Regardless, I hope we will become good friends.

The nice M. Schneider has sent my helpful hostess an email with the name and contact of another agent immobilier.  If the apartment I’m interested in does not work out I will give her a call.

So much for studying. Tomorrow is another day.

Marie in France - pt 3

Strasbourg, September 12, 2013

Before I start the next set of events, I want to mention once incident which took place the same day I had the encounter with the bus driver (Tuesday September 10).  I did some food shopping at a good-sized market in the neighborhood, and on my list was some cheese.  I am very partial to Bel Paese (Italian) but the lady at the cheese counter had never heard of it.  Another shopper overheard our conversation and remarked that she also liked the Bel Paese, but the French cheeses were even better, and she recommended such and such cheese.  So I said to the attendant, "Bon, Mme. has recommended this cheese and I will take it".  Well, I didn’t like it.  The next day I returned to the market and this time I asked for Emmenthaler, which was promoted on most of the menus I had seen in the last few days.  The same girl asked me how I liked the other cheese, I replied “Pas trop” (not so much).  And she said Hein (hah) and Mme. Thinks she can make a good recommendation.  This particular scenario made me feel like I was beginning to be a part of the community.  The focal point was not that I was an American who needed help, but that Mme. What’s-her-name overstepped her expertise in cheese recommendations.

Yesterday I had a double class with my director.  French/Spanish translation is in one building, Spanish/French translation is in another.  You only have to take one or the other, but you have the option to take both, which I am.  But I think I will only take the exam in one.  In the first class the door was locked, there were a number of us waiting, and then the instructor showed up with the key.  Somehow there were already others in the classroom.  This is where the EMOS students (of which I am one) take the same class as the students who want to be teachers, and there are both M1 and M2 (first year and second year) students.

When the French/Spanish portion was over I followed the crowd to the sous-sol (basement)  batiment 4 for the Spanish/French portion. There were about 30 of us waiting outside another locked door, but I didn’t see the instructor.  We waited about 20 minutes before she finally showed up.  She had been looking (who knows where) for a key to open the door.

My airbnb hostess had referred me to a friend of hers, an agent immobilier (real estate agent) who did not do rentals but who referred me to his colleague Audrey, a beautiful blonde francaise, very nice girl. At this point I realized if I wanted a furnished unit, it would most likely be a studio, and anything larger would be unfurnished.  So I began thinking in terms of unfurnished apartments and furniture rentals. I showed up at their office at 2:30,  Audrey and I talked about various options.  Quickly enough we realized that because I did not have a bank account I could not rent an apartment in France, clearly I could not do anything in France without a bank account.  Audrey made a few phone calls to banks without success, the agent and another colleague got into the act, and for the next half hour the three of them were making telephone calls and checking the Internet, all the while the agent was telling me “We will find a solution.”  Bottom line is the agent made an appointment for me the next day with a bank near where I’m staying, and this banker, based on the information he received from the agent (whom he did not know) agreed that he could open an account for me.  Although not convinced that this would happen, I was hopeful and left their office thanking them profusely.

Meanwhile Audrey had given me an option (once I got the bank account) of a hotel/apartment rental in Petite France, a lovely section of Strasbourg.  But the units themselves were small and sort of non-descript. Audrey had told me that apartment owners would only rent for two or three years, so I presumed this was my only option (I have since learned differently).

My first class this morning (8:00 am) was a seminaire transversal (combination of students in other disciplines) on Renaissance myths and the medieval Mediterannean.  I hope this class will turn out to be as interesting as it sounds.  I say will, because the instructors never showed up.  There were four of us waiting, finally after fifteen minutes, one of the second year students took the lead and suggested we go back to Monde Roman headquarters (in another building of course) and find out what the problem was.  So off we trekked to Batiment 4, troisieme etage, and slowly made our way down the hall looking for signs of human life.  I spied a female functionary in one of the rooms and asked her where this new instructor was.  She said he wasn’t here this week, and he had posted a message on the panneau (glass panel) down the hall.  We must have checked about a dozen panels full of postings, and finally found an 8-1/2 x 11 piece of paper  informing one and all that this instructor was out of town this week.  Not too far away was a similar message regarding yet another instructor, the other half of this invisible team.  So with a sigh, further discussion on the various programs, and an exchange of emails, we all went off to whatever else we had to do.

My "else" was a 9:00 meeting with a retail banker (about 25) at the Banque Populaire d’Alsace.  He had had some concern that I did not speak much French, but seemed gratified that we were able to conduct our business in French.  He spent some 45 minutes with me, explaining everything slowly and clearly, about 90% of which I understood.  Long story short, I walked out with a bank account, transferred some money on line from San Francisco, and returned in the afternoon to conclude the transactions and sign the papers.  I now have a stack of documents in French which I have no intention of reading, but I am assured that everything is in place for me to negotiate an apartment rental (carte bancaire, assurance, etc.) sans souci.

Back to the apartment.  My airbnb hostess explained to me that even if one rented an apartment for two or three years, the renter had the right to terminate the agreement with three months’ notice.  My bank representative confirmed this, although there are of course certain procedures which have to be observed.  I will need more explanation on this, but in any case tomorrow I will check out the units at the Petite Marie, a really lovely part of Strasbourg.  I also have to go to the Place Kleber (Orange, Apple, International bookstore) and pick up a copy of Don Juan by Tirso de Molina, and Robert’s French/Spanish dictionary (I have Larousse French/English and Cassell’s Spanish/English which I will undoubtedly have to refer to).

My only class tomorrow is 2-5, entitled Seminaire Pratiques d’Ecriture: Traductions Adaptation  (the French really seem to like long titles).  I hope this instructor shows up.  On time.  With a key.

Marie in Strasbourg part 2

Strasbourg, Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Sunday morning was a rush getting my bags packed, having breakfast, checking out of the hotel and supervising my luggage into a taxi waiting for me per prearrangement. There were now three pieces, plus the backpack, the third being a huge one weighing over 20 kilos (over 45 pounds) which had been fed-exed the week before.  My hostess greeted me warmly on my arrival, we managed all the luggage into her very spacious unit (I think it’s the French equivalent of a co-op), and then I immediately crashed for a couple of hours.

My room is spacious, I have a huge deck right outside, private shower and sink, toilet off of the hallway.  Everything is modern, nicely tiled floor.  Mme. Was also kind enough to allow me the use of a huge glass table just outside my room on which I promptly installed my PC and various documents relating to banking, school and finding my way around Strasbourg.

Sunday everything was closed, except for some restaurants, so I went exploring in search of dinner armed with a large map of Strasbourg. After about half a mile I found a place that seemed marginally serviceable (hamburgers).  On entering I saw an open bottle of Black Label on the bar. Johnny Walker Black is not my scotch of choice, but there being no Dewars I ordered a glass.  The Black Label had much less of a bite than the Black Label I have tasted in the US, but I drank it regardless, ate the hamburger (the fries were good), and returned chez moi with a headache.  Highly unlikely that I will order another Scotch for a while, even if I can find an establishment which sells it.

Mme. had no problem signing the address verification, so armed with her attestation, my passport and some traveler’s checks I presented myself at the Société Générale Monday moring, fully confident of having a checking account following a few formalities.  Monsieur there was very courteous, and after going over the documents presented told me that all that was needed was an attestation from the taxing authority of my city or state validating the fact that I had paid my taxes for 2012.  Seeing my blank stare he suggested that I might write to this organization, explain the situation, and request the attestation. He wasn’t certain that a copy of my tax return, which was in any case locked up in San Francisco, would be sufficient.  I thought Oh sure, Dear IRS, I am a student in Strasbourg unable to open a bank account without proof that I have paid last year’s taxes, so could you please send same ASAP. Needless to say I still don’t have a checking account -- but I haven’t given up.

On to the Orange store to upgrade my cell service, then to the Apple store where I waited for a hour before seeing a very nice tech who found nothing wrong with my Iphone, finally showed up for my 3:00 class.  Madame-l’instructrice was late (no surprise), but instead of going into the course on Théatralités she spent the time explaining the very complicated curriculum for the next two years (I only want to understand the first semester) and fielding questions from my group.  There are four of us in this group, une francaise, a young woman from Colombia, an Italian signorina (I think) and myself. A lot of explanation results in a small increase in my understanding of what’s going on, so I continue to ask questions of whomever and whenever I can.

Tuesday morning the Secretariat was finally open again, so I got there early to pay my deposit of 250 euros.  Wrong place.  I was sent to another building where a cashier took my money, so I was finally “administrativement inscrite.”  I was astonished to learn that this is all I’m going to be charged for the entire year.  This explains much of what I have observed in the last few days.  The school budget has its limits, different disciplines may be combined if the subject permits, the Secretariat personnel are probably paid for only three days a week (hence the Friday and Monday closures).  The restrooms are for both men and women, there are plenty of stalls, they are clean (this is Strasbourg after all), but – there are no toilet seats.

I took the bus back (buses were running despite a 24 hour greve, ie. Strike).  On entering I asked the driver in French if he was going to the Rue d’Ypres.  His reply was “Bonjour, Madame.”  I asked the question again, and his reply again was “Bonjour, Madame.”

Lightbulb moment – I said “Bonjour, Monsieur, est-ce que vous allez a la Rue d’Ypres?”    

“Eh bien, oui, Madame.”

Another lesson learned in France.  Greet the bus driver.  In fact greet anyone you interact with.  Everybody does.                                                        

Like Monday, Tuesday is pretty light, I had a one-hour course at 4pm again with la Mme-l’instructrice.  This is Spanish lit (15^th-18^th century) and because her background is theater we are studying Spanish drama, beginning with Don Juan, el Burlador (libertine, seducer) de Sevilla by Tirso de Molina (17^th Century) – should be interesting.  The class is conducted in both French and Spanish, Mme. Switches back and forth between the two.  I understand the French more than the Spanish, regardless I understand neither 100%.  There is no central bookstore on campus.  I will have to go to  the International Bookstore at Place Kleber (home of the Orange ad Apple stores)  to buy the texts.

The streets in the center of town are small, and shared by cars, pedestrians and bicyclists.  The cars are very careful, the pedestrians politely try to stay out of their way, it is the bicyclists who think they own the road. Outside of the center the streets are wide enough to allow cars their own space, the sidewalks are divided into a marked bicycle section, and an unmarked pedestrian section.  Neither the bicyclists nor the pedestrians make it a point to stay in their own section.  Sometimes cars are parked on the sidewalk, which results in a catch as catch can situation.  But I am staying is a fairly upscale section, and everyone is pretty polite.