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 (15th-18th 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 (17th
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.
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