Eloquent Venting

27.10.09


Ok so not everything is beautiful in France. I've confronted the two extreme versions of the 'France' concept that Americans have: those of my Dad, who find it to be a land of cowards and traitors who all hate us and our evil capitalist ways; and those of my Mom, who are tickled pink when I tell her I 'went to Paris for the weekend' with friends, and who imagine France to be a place of baguettes and cheese, culture and class, corner patisseries and a traditional simplicity of life that Americans find nostalgic.

France is really just a French-ified version of the U.S., with remnants of its past the way some families have Great-Grandma's favorite vase on the mantel piece after she's passed away. French people in general as I've noticed, find their chateaux boring and old and prefer their box-y, 50's industrial-style modern architecture; they prefer 'Mac Do' do traditional French cooking which I have yet to experience, and they prefer American hip hop to the classical music their country is so famous for. The Loire and the Cathedrals are stoic icons that are generally ignored if not for the tourists, and people take for granted hundreds of years of rich, imbeded culture that Americans envy, with our 250-year-old baby of a country. French people get in their cars or hop onto public transportation and watch out the window or at their I pod's blankly as the beautiful scenery buzzes by, just waiting to get to work.

Traditional French life such as corner butchers and patisseries exist, but more in 'centre ville,' which are where the tourists go, and where French people go to shop. Or the patisseries resemble Dunkin' Donuts a bit, where the employees where the same tacky uniforms, rush you through the line, and you can tell that the pastries have been out since the morning.
The cheaper, more convenient option has caught on; a monster of a all-purpose store where you can get all your shopping needs done at once – AUCHAN. It's the French version of WalMart.
You pay a Euro for your cart, which you slip in the little slot at the top –W it pops out when you put it back. You enter the store, overwhelmed by the star-designed halls lined with stores displaying fashionable clothing, restaurants, shoes, and cellphone providers – each hall meeting in the middle where you enter AUCHAN. It has cheap household décor, plates and serving bowls along with every kitchen accessory you can think of, electronics, hardware, and even a grocery store at the other end. Televisions screens call you over, where they display the latest in mattress technology, or the best new blender on the market. It is so familiar...you know exactly what to do, where to go, because you've done it all before – in the States...the smell of sterilized fabric after leaving the Chinese factories, items thrown about as people scavenge the best deals, the blinding lights above that drive you out, but the gigantic yellow “Solde (sale)” signs that suck you back in, with their unbeatable prices....
It's just Frenchified. French brands (and American), that are miniature in size for a higher price, French on the signs above the isles, fish displayed out on ice unwrapped, and an isle dedicated to cheese and its wonderfully pungent aroma in the grocery section. Parents dig feverishly through the piles of cheese, trying to get home at a reasonable hour, at the same time trying to control their children, who scream and throw temper tantrums. They have more time during these endeavors than we do, considering most of them get off work at 5:00 – like we're “supposed” to. But they go through the same motions. It's just in a different language.

Aside from France being much more “normal” and familiar than I thought it would be, French people are meaner than I thought they would be. I'm speaking in a very generalized way; some of the people we've met, such as a lunch place near Auchan which we frequent pretty often, have begun to notice us as “the Americans” and are very patient and excitable with us. But the “customer service” that Americans treasure so highly, is a non-necessity here. In a land where tips don't exist, and everyone is treated equal – why should YOU be treated any better than anyone else? Examples are: when I go up to ask someone for directions, they ask as though I am asking the biggest favor in the world. When I went into SFR (one equivalent here of AT&T for cell phones), to ask why the people calling me was showing up as “unknown” every time – the guy asked as though I was the biggest waste of time he's ever seen. When Anna and I went to “France Telecom” in the mall part of Auchan to tell them our phone line wasn't working, again, acting like we were a waste of time. A whole lot of sighing, rolling of eyes, moving at a snails pace, and 'I don't know what to tell you Madame,' and just handing us a number to call for a technician. In the U.S., we would have been so overly apologetic, I would have been nauseous.

And when you're a foreigner in another country...only when you've walked 6 months in the shoes of an immigrant...will you be able to understand the 'immigration' experience at home. And no, I don't mean as a 'tourist.' Only when you become the 'stranger in a strange land' trying to exist as a functioning member in a society, can you even begin to imagine the constant struggle to understand and be understood in another culture and tongue, struggle to maintain your self-esteem in the face of being judged as a simpleton and the chronic headaches from mental overload.
Being a tourist is easy; the natives of the country you're visiting have laid out your paths in front of you with carefully marked signs, arrows, and people that can direct you that speak your language, for a fee – because you are contributing to their economy by your temporary interest in their monuments.

Being a native is easy. I realize now that I took it all for granted; what to do if there's a problem with your bills, calling companies and getting credit for their mistakes, setting up service, setting up a bank account, paying credit card and other bills, etc...
I helped my Conogolese friends because it was easy for me, and I pitied their lack of understanding. But I couldn't REALLY relate to their situation.

Living in France has taught me that I am a six-year-old trying to keep my head afloat in a swirling current of paperwork and socialist rules and regulations that no one else around me in my situation seem to fully understand. Every other English assistant here that I've asked has had a different version of what we're supposed to do, what the paperwork means, what we can and can't do before this and this get's sent in and processed first. I'm not sure if I'm 100% covered by French insurance, or if I should purchase another private health insurance plan, as my roomate has done – because someone told HER that the French government only pays for 70% of your bills. Then I hear that it depends on what you've had done; Tiffany said, if you're getting a breast augmentation, of course the French government isn't going to help you out very much with that. If you break your leg, she assured me that the government would cover the whole thing. So I don't know what is going on.

About a month ago; the same week we arrived in Orleans, we went to France Telecom – the largest company for phone lines/internet/television in France. They might even at one point, or even still, have been State-owned. We had heard that we needed to set up a landline in our apartment, pay off the installation fee and the first month's bill, and then we could call another company called 'FREE' which does internet/phone including free calls to the U.S./television for 30Euro a month. That's 15 for Anna and 15 for me. Not bad...I was so excited about this, that we started the whole process as soon as we could with France Telecom, so that in 2-3 weeks, I would be able to call my friends and family as often as I wanted!

But our apartment remained silent for the next several weeks. The line had been 'activated' and we had already been given/plugged in a cordless phone from the secretary at my school, that she had laying around.....but the phone didn't work. I had already bought a corded phone myself, and we tried that one instead of the cordless. Neither worked. There was a strange tone/beeping that sounded in your ear, and outbound and inbound calls didn't go through.

This is when we went back in to France Telecom. The first time, we weren't sure what we had been told...would we be responsible for paying the technician fee – since it probably was a problem with the wiring in the wall of the bulding, owned by my school? We went in a second time with Frederique, and she said the technician coming out wouldn't be charged – but they would have to determine whether it was France Telecom's fault that the phone wasn't working, or the school's. She didn't know if the school would pay or not.

WEEK TWO: We called the number and couldn't understand the rapid and technical French on the automated messaging....so I went downstairs and knocked on the door of the Groundskeeper of the school, M. Duverger (Du-Ver-Jay) – or Patrick, as we know him now – who lives in the building. I explained our situation and our concerns, and as he is probably the nicest French person I have met so far, he jovially followed me back upstairs and called France Telecom for us, as well as the Secretary at the school, Mme Marty, to ask her who would be responsible for paying for the repairs. She had to 'verify and call us back.'

He scheduled the technician to come the next day. We thought our problems would be over. However, the technician found that the wire in the wall had been cut, probably by accident when someone was doing work in the building, and he wouldn't be able to do anything until the school installed a new wire in the wall. I thought that was his job, but apparently not...
M. Duverger told me that the technician had told HIM to replace the wire, and then call France Telecom back when it was all done.

TWO DAYS LATER: WEEK THREE. I saw the little hole in the wall where the new wire had been installed, and asked M Duverger if he had called France Telecom yet. He said he had, and they were supposed to come soon.

WEEK FOUR: this was last week. The technician still hadn't come back to finish the job. Rumor has it a technician came one day, popped his head in the building and didn't see anyone – even though our door was unlocked and he had M. Duverger's number to call in case we weren't home – so he promptly left after 2 minutes.M. Duverger had called twice since then.
Normally, my French aquaintences have told me, native French people would be theoretically able to call France Telecom in this sitaution, and demand to be reimbursed for the entire month we went without a phone. The bill had already come in the mail – Anna and I had to pay 53 Euro for a phone line that didn't work. Normally, if our French was good enough – which mine is, but because of my slight accent – they don't give us the time of day. Our efforts at getting through the loop holes and getting breaks are almost laughable, because we aren't French. And it's obvious how clueless we are.

And I'd be willing to be you all are saying, 'Well we aren't THAT bad in the United States. We don't have nearly as much paperwork, and normally things get done on time.” However, if you order a service, or to get tile installed, or something to be set up....most of the time it goes as planned, but oftentimes you have issues as well. People don't do what they're paid to do, they reschedule 80 times, etc. As a native who understands what is between the lines, what you're entitled too if you raise hell enough, we can get by pretty easily. We can express ourselves in a manner that puts us on the same level – if not higher – than the company we're pissed at. If you aren't a native, you don't even know what you're entitled to. All you have to go by is what's acceptable at home. And hope it's similar. And you get screwed over, time and time again...just because you don't know.

Some people are inclined to help me, and some aren't. Before I had a French debit card, I was using my American one. I've used it in Europe before, and I've been using it at 70% of the places I go here in France, without a problem. You just have to try it 85 different directions before it finally goes in and works. A couple times though, the people just stare blankly at it and then at me, and say, “I can't help you. We don't take foreign cards, it doesn't work in our machine. It needs the chip in the front.” I know for a FACT this isn't true, and no there are no fees that the businesses have to pay for taking foreign cards. The are just lazy. So I have to argue, and sometimes they'll sigh, annoyed, and take it...and other times they stubbornly refuse and make me go to an ATM.

The phone still doesn't work. The technician is supposed to come tomorrow, because I called four days ago and rescheduled. We'll see how that works. Who knows how long it's going to take Free to set everything up.

Setting up a cellphone plan was ridiculous. The reason I did this, is because its easy to break a contract – and this way, I can call the U.S. for free, have internet on my phone, and pay a whole lot less than I've been putting into my Pre-Paid phone, about 50 Euro a month. But in order to do this, I needed my passeport, another form of ID, my visa, proof of residency, proof of employment, my official bank information, a bill sent to our address (which because it was in Anna's name, I needed Anna to write a note and sign it saying we live together), etc. A bank statement sent to our address with my name on it, wasn't good enough. The guy even called in to SFR central to ask, and the guy said no. Bank Statements weren't an “acceptable form of proof of residency.” They needed a bill. Aiyayaya....

“Excuse moi, c'est un peu complique, avec tous ces documents,” I said. (Sorry, this is a little complicated, with all of these documents.) This is the French response to this situation, “C'est la France!”